


to give me your sweater, hold my hand tight

by fatherwon



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Denial of Feelings, Everything ends swell though and everyone's happy as a clam, Friends With Benefits, Fuckbuddies, Hyunwoo isn't mean by the way, Lots of drinking and partying and sleeping around, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Slut Shaming, to a degree
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-18 19:34:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 52,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14220261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fatherwon/pseuds/fatherwon
Summary: "that's not going to change the fact that i love you.""don't say that. you're not in love with me."in which kihyun is afraid to love and hoseok can't help but love.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is probably the longest thing ive ever written, yeesh. it took me forever to finish but here we are!
> 
> ps: i really really loved writing this monster of a fic it's like literally my baby we've been though sm, so i hope you enjoy! ♥ 
> 
> (fic title from billie eilish's 'limbo')

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're that lace trimmed danger
> 
> One day you'll be the face of a stranger
> 
> [Alina Baraz & Galimatias - Pretty Thoughts]

**3RD MARCH**

Pushing a piece of burnt garlic bread around his plate, Minhyuk digs the prongs of his fork deeper into its surface. A soft crunch emits under the added pressure; Minhyuk seems determined to completely mutilate the unappetising subject. He begins, “Ki, you’re in your third year of college, the acapella group loves you to bits, you’re moving into a phenomenal apartment this weekend, you’re starting an internship next semester, so kudos to you on that.”

Minhyuk sips meditatively at his wine. "And you could have made it all _so_ much better -- that boy was _so cute, Kihyun._ "

Kihyun sighs loudly into his hands, which had planted themselves onto his face by reflex as soon as Minhyuk had said _‘third’._ Kihyun has been listening to his roommate’s perpetual nagging on the subject since that really cute Starbucks barista had beamed at him, all teeth and gums, told him he had pretty eyes and scribbled a pickup line onto his coffee cup earlier today. A simple lunch date with Minhyuk always leaves sufficient room for stress (Kihyun has realised this after three years of living with him).

"Minhyuk, I just-- literally  _just_ , okay? It's been, like, five minutes -- said _I_  gave _him my number and told him he was cute_ ," Kihyun persists, not caring much for how muffled his voice comes out against his palms. It’s not exactly a bad thing, because without his hands, Kihyun supposes probably everyone in the bistro would be able to hear him. He frequents the place with a hearty passion, because they have his favourite honey mustard chicken, they make the best iced tea, and all the workers here adore him to bits, so it's better this way.

Kihyun peels his hands away from his face. He grudgingly brings his full attention back to Minhyuk, the plates of semi-warm food placed on the table in front of him, the soft jazz music playing in the background, drowned out by the subtle chatter erupting from different corners of the restaurant. Kihyun twirls two to three strands of pasta around his fork, dipping the subject matter into a tiny pot of tartar sauce.

"You gave him your number, and told him he’s cute,” Minhyuk repeats with added emphasis, chucking a napkin at Kihyun, who just narrows his eyes at the gesture. “That’s _Kihyun_ for _I told him that to make him happy, because I’m never going on a date with him_."

“No, I’m not,” Kihyun answers easily, but when Minhyuk glares him down for a deeper, more decent, explanation, Kihyun feels compelled to let out a sigh.

"He just seemed too pure, like someone who loves being in relationships, because he likes having someone to spoil,” Kihyun adds, swaying the piece of cutlery in his hand around, watching the strings of pasta swinging from side to side, instead of actually taking the pasta into his mouth.

Minhyuk breathes in slowly, his arms folded accusingly over his chest, but it’s not meant as a threat. “Kihyun, you can’t just assume someone likes being in relationships by simply _looking_ at them. That’s stupid.”

Khyun scoffs. “It’s not stupid, it was a vibe. Respect the vibe.”

"It’s _stupid_ ,” Minhyuk emphasises with a teasing undertone, leaning forward onto the table a little. “And you're stupid, so it's _really_ stupid.”

The younger boy doesn’t argue any further. Instead, he finds himself pressing his lips together, tucking a piece of his faded pink hair behind his ear before trailing his eyes out the window in silent agreement. He can’t win this argument against Minhyuk -- it’s taken Kihyun countless tries to finally figure that out.

He fixes his gaze on a flyer, undulating gently in the early March breeze. It’s pinned up to a lamppost, promoting some dance studio, and Kihyun feels a small shiver travel up the column of his spine. He had taken dance lessons back in high school, though he immediately resented the decision after he’d face-planted onto the floor during his third session. It wasn’t a good time.

“ _An_ _yway_ , it’s just a date. You like dates, especially the first few dates. Dates aren’t relationship defining,” Minhyuk presses even more imploringly than before, the garlic bread now at the mercy of his fingers. He tears away at its edges until it’s just a curve of charred crust. “Which is good for you, because you don’t _do_ relationships, right?”

There’s no bite to his words. Minhyuk means it all, and not in any way that’s derogatory or even snippy. If anything, Minhyuk’s statement offers enough reassurement for Kihyun to feel a heavy weight being lifted off his tiny shoulders.

"Why are you being so pushy about this?” Kihyun inquires rather speculatively, setting his fork, still occupied by a swirl of pasta, back down onto his plate. He props his chin onto his palm, elbow rested comfortably on the table, looking back out the window again (Kihyun secretly waits for Minhyuk to smack his arm down from the table in correspondence to those self-observed table manners of his, but he doesn’t). “If you liked him so much, why don’t _you_ go on a date with him?”

There’s a moment of intense glaring, followed by a kick to the shin (one-hundred percent inflicted on Kihyun’s poor, poor leg by Minhyuk), before Minhyuk groans. “You’re _impossible_.”

Chuckling softly, because Kihyun can’t bring himself to _actually_ feel offended, Kihyun reaches for his glass. Its rim is decorated with a network of slightly translucent lipstick stains, courtesy of Kihyun’s blood-red liptint. He gulps down the remainder of his lemonade in a heartbeat. “We’re still on for tonight, aren’t we? Or did you secretly plan a date for me with the cute barista?”      

.inhyuk feigns hurt by letting his jaw drop low, and placing a gentle hand over his chest. “Firstly, I am hurt. _Hurt_ , I tell you,” he swallows, and Kihyun tries to skillfully hide a smile behind his hand. It doesn’t work out so well. “And secondly, we’re still on, but Jun cancelled. He’s sick; he said he might be dying.”

And just like that, in a heartbeat of a second, Kihyun’s lips completely abandon that cloud-parting smile of his for the frown that has now materialised onto them.

"Oh, my God, _no_ ," he whines, his eyebrows tugged close together and his face all kinds of sad. “Jun’s not coming?”

“He’s _sick_ ” Minhyuk repeats, trying his very best not to crack a smile at the level of adoration Kihyun must harbour for the boy in question. It’s not a common sight to witness -- seeing Kihyun all pouty over hearing someone’s not going out clubbing with them -- because Kihyun hardly _ever_ associates himself with people in any way that’s emotional (Minhyuk can only think of a handful of people Kihyun _actually_ genuinely cares about, and he’s a little proud to say he’s one of them).

When Kihyun throws his napkin onto the table and slides down into his chair, Minhyuk lightly nudges his calf with his boot. “Hey, that’s okay, though. Daehyun’s gonna be there, Hyejin and everybody else, too,” the older boy reassures, and Kihyun lets out somewhat of a whimper. “We can still have fun, and you can go drop by Jun’s place later.”

Kihyun only sticks his lower lip out a little more, and Minhyuk almost squeals at the sight.

"It’ll be nice,” the blonde presses further, his voice soft. “It’ll make him _happy._  You know how much he loves seeing you.”

At that, however, Kihyun brightens up a bit, his pretty, beaming smile coming back to grace his incredulously red lips. “Maybe I'll just go see him right now, and I can meet you guys at the club later.”

Minhyuk hardly gets any time to react to Kihyun’s declaration. He would’ve liked to have the opportunity to whine and complain a little, and say, _Kihyunnie_ , _you_ _can’t leave me_. But Kihyun has already picked up his coat, tugged his scarf back around his neck, and he's leaving his credit card on the table for Minhyuk to pay with (they agreed lunch was on him, and Kihyun is always true to his word). Even through the blur of frazzlement, he manages to toss a quick, “I’ll say _‘hi’_ to Heonny for you,” over his shoulder, and Minhyuk almost scoffs.

Then, Kihyun is rushing out the entrance in a whirl of pink.

.

Evn without Junhui there for Kihyun to link arms and drink with (it’s a little tradition of theirs), clubbing still proved to be just as fun. The loud, thumping music bouncing off walls and hot, sweaty bodies had left Kihyun's bones rattling under his skin. Youngjae had practically tipped a glassful of a cherry-red drink down Kihyun's throat, and Kihyun actually wound up ordering another one. And Daehyun had very gallantly stepped up and offered Kihyun a dance. It wasn't much of a _dance_ , as it was a frenzy of swaying hips, wild grinding and standing a bit too close to one another. 

Hyejin even dragged Kihyun off to one of the restrooms just for the sole purpose of applying an extra few layers of liptint to his mouth. _"lt will make your lips look bitten, and that's, like, super hot,”_ she had reasoned, and Kihyun didn't have the heart to argue, because it actually looked _good._ Way better than anything Minhyuk could manage. More importantly, Kihyun found himself feeling a lot more thankful for it later the same night.

Kihyun wouldn’t ever admit it to Minhyuk out loud, because he’d never let Kihyun live down the way he’d pouted and sulked at lunch, but with the situation at hand, Kihyun doesn’t think anything could pull him down from the canopy of clouds he's perched up on.

He realises, in hindsight, maybe (just maybe) he shouldn’t have had so much to drink. Because now, Kihyun can’t really trace back to how exactly he ended up being pressed up against a wall by probably the most gorgeous piece of work he’s ever seen in his twenty-three years of living. But Kihyun swears being kissed by this boy, with a knee pressed so far up between his thighs that Kihyun's head is spinning, is nothing short of _heaven_. It's all so hot and heavy, a clash of teeth, tongues and roaming hands, that Kihyun can feel his blood buzzing with electricity. Sizzling _,_ like a tangle of live wires.

The flashing club lights don’t do justice to much, but if Kihyun pay attention, he can actually see the boy in front of him. Messily styled blue hair, faded to a silver near the roots, his skin pale and glowing, and dark eyes, kohl-lined to perfection. He’s admittedly a work of art, a walking masterpiece, and when his plump, red lips (they’re so incredulously red, Kihyun wonders if that's _actually_ the product of being bitten down into by him) curl into an effortless smirk, all the air is knocked out of Kihyun’s lungs. It perfectly complements the patent twinkle in his eyes -- and, _God_ , is he gorgeous, simply and truly _fucking gorgeous._

After a flurry of whiskey kisses, the boy, in all his blue-haired glory, mouths sloppily at Kihyun’s neck, nipping, biting, sucking -- everything that makes Kihyun feel like he’s walking on clouds. Just as Kihyun feels his knees starting  to shake under him, he twists his fingers into the boy's hair. He brings him up to his mouth for one last kiss, and tugs him out of the club. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gold chain beneath your shirt 
> 
> The shirt that you let me wear home
> 
> Gold's fake and real love hurts 
> 
> And nothing hurts when i’m alone 
> 
> When you're with me and we're alone
> 
> [Billie Eilish - Hostage]

Hoseok. That’s his name. Kihyun learns it later the same night in exchange for his own. 

Hoseok mumbles it through soft kisses and gentle bites against the insides of Kihyun’s thighs. And Kihyun practises letting it roll off his tongue so prettily, so perfectly, with a hand clawing at Hoseok’s back and the other fastened in his hair. Hoseok wants Kihyun’s voice, the way he screams his name in shameless, broken shouts, to soak into the walls, seep into every crevice and embed itself in every piece of furniture he owned. He wants to distill it into smooth, sweet honey, just so he can treasure it forever like the precious gem it is.

Kihyun is so beautiful, so, so beautiful, with his willowy figure and sharp, fierce features. Hoseok feels blissfully dizzy at the feeling of Kihyun’s hot skin, pale and so, so perfect, under his fingertips and Kihyun’s swollen, red lips and his deep-set eyes, peering up at Hoseok through thick, spidery lashes.

He’s so gorgeous under Hoseok, so nimble and petite compared to Hoseok’s thick, muscly form. Hoseok could completely ravish him, manhandle him into a perpetual mess, and have his own way with him, but all he wants is to wrap Kihyun up in soft blankets, brush his hair and feed him grapes. He just wants to be able to _keep_ Kihyun, or to be able to stay in this moment forever, trapped in the same loop of time for eternity.

Hoseok knows he probably shouldn’t think much of how his heart dips every time Kihyun settles into his gaze, or when he tugs Hoseok’s face away from his hips to kiss his mouth, sloppy, slow and _so_ hot. But before he knows it, Hoseok is pining over the idea of bringing a halt to everything they’re doing just so he can curl himself around Kihyun, kiss along his collarbones and all over his soft, soft belly, and stroke the smooth skin of his thighs until he falls asleep.

It’s only been a few hours at most, but Hoseok is very familiar with the warmth pooling up in his belly when Kihyun breaks away from their kiss to groan into his mouth, his tiny hands cupping Hoseok's face so gently, as his eyes dart all over his face slowly.

Hoseok knows he’s already _so_ terribly and completely smitten.

.

**4TH MARCH**

It's just a little past noon. A somber, pearly glow is cast over the expanse of the apartment. It pours through the windows in soft filters and fills the area with wintery-gold light. 

The sitting area still hosts traces of Christmas, regardless of the fact that it’s early March. Kihyun isn’t sure whether he wants to know the context. There are flashy streamers and holiday wreaths still perched up on walls and over the doors, mistletoe slung over the main door frame, and clusters of ornaments just lying around without a tree to hold them.

It’s a little messy, too. Open textbooks and half-eaten takeout littering the coffee table, dishes cluttered in the sink and an assortment of mismatched shoes scattered next to the door, but Kihyun likes it here. _Here_ , as in _Hoseok’s_ _apartment_ , sitting comfortably at Hoseok’s kitchen table, his legs folded under him with one of Hoseok’s large hoodies thrown over his willowy frame. It just barely brushes over the tops of his thighs. The many hickeys Hoseok had left on the insides are perfectly visible, purple and blue marks blossoming over pale skin. Kihyun notices his boots still lying next to the door from when he had carelessly tossed them away last night. 

Kihyun waits patiently for the Hoseok. He takes respite in the comforting, sweet smells of pancake batter and coconut wafting into the air, as he picks at the fuzzy material of his socks. There’s a tiny rip in the fabric right over his pinky toe, and Kihyun’s shoulders slump at the prospect of tossing away yet another pair of perfectly comfortable socks.

Kihyun had insisted on making breakfast, but Hoseok had grinned and nudged him towards one of the kitchen chairs, outrightly refusing to let Kihyun cook.  _“But that's so ungentlemanly,”_ he had said, like the mere prospect irked him to the bone. _“Letting your_ guest _make breakfast"._  SoKihyun had just backed down into the comfort of one of the four chairs pulled up next to the kitchen table.

It doesn’t take long for Hoseok to pad back to Kihyun, a plate in hand, set with a tall stack of coconut pancakes, dripping with golden syrup. There’s even a few blueberries tossed over them for extra effect.

Kihyun eyes the sweet delicacies placed on the table in front of him in awe. He grabs hold of a fork, and presses its prongs into the soft, fluffy goodness he’s been presented.

"Well, goddamn. I’m swooning,” he gushes, forking a bite of pancake into his mouth. “Last night and now _this._ Lee Hoseok, you’re a man of many talents.”

Hoseok chuckles softly. “I really can’t manage kitchen affairs, to be honest. The pancakes are something I _had_ to figure out, because Hyungwon needs some sort of sugar intake in the morning, or else he’s unbelievably cranky for the rest of the day. The perfect definition of a grade-one asshole.”

During the time they spent together, Kihyun had learned Hoseok has a roommate, Hyungwon, whom Kihyun is sure he’s heard of from Minhyuk on a couple of different occasions. Though, in Minhyuk’s narratives, the name had been accompanied by phrases and euphemisms, like _so fucking pretty you'll want to cry,_ _h_ _e’s total model-material, he_ ’s _got the most kissable pair of lips I've ever seen,_  and _I’d_ _love_   _for_   _him_ _to take me for a ride in that sweet Porsche of his -- he sure looks like he can handle a stick._

Similarly, Kihyun revealed that he lived with his best friend, Minhyuk, who’s really a big bundle of unbridled affection and excitement tucked away behind a pretty exterior. But at the same time, he’s honestly kind of the greatest friend Kihyun has and could ever have.

Grinning tightly, as if Kihyun is desperately trying to suppress his laughter, he peers up at Hoseok through thick eyelashes, his supple cheeks slightly puffed with pancake. Hoseok can’t help but fawn over how Kihyun can be so painstakingly fervent, sensuous and hot ( _God_ , Hoseok can’t wrap his head around just how hot Kihyun is), but simultaneously look so sweet, tiny and lovable, like a little mouse. “That's cute. Tell me more.”

Hoseok licks a drop of syrup off the seam of his lips, a there-to-stay smile dancing on his lips. He’s grinning so big, he looks like he slept with a hanger in his mouth. “Like what?” 

"I don’t know,” Kihyun shrugs his shoulders up to his ears, tearing off a bite of pancake to feed to Hoseok. “Anything, tell me anything. Random stuff, like, your major, favourite pet, part-time job, what you like doing in your free time?”

After bringing his coffee mug up to his lips, sipping speculatively at the steaming beverage, Hoseok sets it back down to fiddle with it, tracing a meditative finger along the rim. “Well, I’m a psychology major. I work at this cute, little café on campus. I like cats. I  _had_ a cat until Hyungwon accidentally left the window open one day, and she hopped out onto the fire escape. Haven’t seen her since. Oh, and I usually spend my free time working out. It's fun -- relaxing, even.”

Kihyun snorts against his own coffee mug at the last part.

"Yeah, I can tell,” he mumbles around a semi-mouthful of fluffy pancake, eyeing Hoseok's arms and drooling over how _good_ they look in that tight shirt Hoseok's wearing. Peeking out from under the hems of his sleeves, Kihyun can even pinpoint the many scratch-marks he'd left on Hoseok’s arms last night from gripping him tightly.

Under the table, across the two to three feet of floor between their legs, Hoseok inches his sock-clad foot closer to Kihyun’s. He gently nudges Kihyun's ankle before trailing his foot up and down Kihyun’s calf, all the way up to his knee. "What about you?”

Kihyun’s shifts a little in his seat as Hoseok’s foot travels up further. He lets out a small, adorable gasp when he feels Hoseok prodding at inside of his thigh, earning an amused grin from the older. He simmers down eventually, kicking away Hoseok’s foot teasingly from time to time, only to set the whole thing in motion again.

Nudging Hoseok's foot gently with his own, Kihyun says, “I’m an anthropology student. I like humanitarian studies, so it’s fun, but I have this presentation in a few days and I’m _so_ not looking forward to it.”

“I’m sure you’ll do great,” Hoseok chirps.

Kihyun smiles, his eyes thinning down to pretty crescents that make him seem like he's glowing brighter than any star Hoseok has ever seen.

    “Thank you,” Kihyun responds, dipping the tip of his index in a tiny bit of syrup that has pooled at the edge of the plate, licking it off his finger. “I take a literature course on the side, I work at a pretty hip-happening, albeit fancy, bar, and I’m also going to be interning next semester.” 

"Oh, that’s so cool,” Hoseok interjects. his smile is wide, sincere and, oh, so lovely; Kihyun feels all fuzzy inside. “What’s the internship for?”

 “Well, it’s an editing position for this publishing company, which is perfect, really, because, you know, literature minor. I just got lucky, really. A friend of mine -- God bless him -- managed to get a good word in with the manager there,” Kihyun emphasises, plucking a blueberry off the half-devoured pancake stack and plopping it into his mouth. He can’t comprehend whether the faint traces of maple syrup make it taste better in any way -- he’s too focused on Hoseok’s foot, and how it’s trailing up and down his leg in gentle, soft circles. And he's too focused on how warm he feels, even through the worn fabric of his socks.

Hoseok looks entranced, if nothing else, his eyes swimming with astoundment. Kihyun almost gushes over how adorable he looks, like a small puppy that’s been given the promise of a treat.

“That’s amazing,” the older boy coos, fingers reaching to pry off the piece of pancake skewered onto Kihyun’s fork -- he might as well eat it if Kihyun isn’t going to. “What else?”

“I have a bunny, his name’s Buzz, and he’s unbelievably tiny. Minhyuk picked him up from a park on the way home from campus one day, and he insisted we keep him,” Kihyun’s lips curve into a small smile when he sees Hoseok’s face soften in plain adoration at the mention of his bunny. “I don’t like untidy, unclean spaces, so I usually clean up the whole apartment on sundays, and I like singing. I usually hang around the acapella group whenever I can.”   

The sparkle in Hoseok’s eyes increases (if that’s even possible — Kihyun doesn’t think it is). "You _sing?_ Would you sing for me?” There’s no hint of teasing in his voice, if anything, he just sounds really hopeful and pure -- and _, God_ , is Hoseok pure.

Kihyun can only let soft laughter bubble from his lips, even after Hoseok has confirmed he was being a hundred-percent serious.

“Maybe,” the younger boy ponders, picking up the two empty, coffee-stained mugs and the semi-occupied plate of pancakes, padding over to the countertop to set the three items next to the sink. “If I feel like it, _provided_ you're good to me.”

Following suit, Hoseok shuffles over to Kihyun, leaning back against the counter next to the latter, watching fondly as he wraps up the leftover pancakes neatly in some saran wrap, setting them inside the refrigerator.

“If we’re done with breakfast, would it be okay if i took you out?” the older boy inquires, looking over at Kihyun as he scrubs their used mugs with warm, soapy water and hangs them up on on their designated hooks above the sink.

He’d been thinking about it a lot -- about how, after the night they spent together, Kihyun would leave the next morning, just like every other person Hoseok brought home, but it's different with Kihyun. Kihyun isn't _just everybody else_.

There's just one conclusion he rounded back to: he didn’t want to _not_ see Yoo Kihyun again. Hoseok doesn't want to forget the unreal, silky texture of his hair, the softness of his lips, the way his laugh spiked something warm and cozy inside him, or how unreal, painstakingly beautiful, breathtaking and _just right_ he looked under Hoseok, sprawled over crumpled sheets and misplaced pillows, his hair ruffled and mussed to perfection.

Turning the tap closed, Kihyun pats his hands dry on a small dish towel. It patches with slightly darker, damp blotches of blue. Hoseok had very sweetly tugged it off the oven handle and offered it to him. He looks up at Hoseok, an eyebrow arched in inquiry. “Took me out, like, for a movie?”

Hoseok moves even closer to Kihyun, and, a little unsurely at first, he takes Kihyun’s smaller, much softer hand in his own, pressing tenderly when Kihyun lightly grips onto his fingers approvingly, but when Kihyun squints at him slightly, Hoseok feels his chest tighten.

"Hey, hey,” Kihyun starts, letting his eyes flit down to their intertwined hands. “Take me to dinner first.”

It’s really just meant to be an innocent joke, but Kihyun has to arch his eyebrows and thin his lips down expectantly for some sort of reaction from Hoseok, like a laugh or a scoff. It’s just a form of reassurance and Kihyun giggles a little behind closed lips when Hoseok finally catches on.

“We’ve already gone fourth base, Kihyun,” the latter avows as he gives Kihyun's shoulder a little nudge. It's more bashful than it is playful.

“I know.” Kihyun giggles a little louder this time, his lips curling prettily around his laugh. the sound comes out in full colour now, and Kihyun even wrinkles his nose at Hoseok, something that makes Hoseok’s belly swoop so low he feels like his knees are about to buckle under him. “I just really wanted to say that.”    

Smiling fondly, Hoseok uses two fingers to tuck a few pieces of Kihyun’s messy, pink bangs behind his ear. “You’re adorable.”

Kihyun instantly drops his eyes down to his feet (and Hoeok’s, because they’re standing so close together). He traces lazy, miscellaneous shapes onto the hardwood floor with his socked toe, hoping, praying and hoping some more that Hoseok can’t see the blush dancing on his cheeks. He’s used to being on the receiving end of soft, sweet praises. More often than not, they’re just flirty compliments, begging for the promise of some type of excitement. But it’s something about the way Hoseok says it that makes Kihyun feel light and afloat. Every word Hoseok utters, just his voice in general, smooth, like a heart-warming combination of silk and melted butter, is breath of fresh air.

"Anyway,” Kihyun says after softly clearing his throat. “You were saying? About taking me out?”

"Yeah, movies are too clichè,” Hoseok nudges Kihyun’s in-motion foot with his own, drawing out a string of soft giggles from the younger boy. “I was thinking more along the lines of a park or even a just walk around the neighbourhood.”

Kihyun laughs again, a little louder this time. It’s really the prettiest thing Hoseok has ever heard, and he tries not to make much of the way his heart dips a little at how Kihyun’s lips curl into the biggest smile, complemented perfectly by the tiny dimples under his eyes.

“I would love to,” Kihyun begins, clutching onto Hoseok’s big, warm hand a little tighter. “But I’m moving in a few days, and Minhyuk’s gonna kill me if I don’t help with the packing. Plus, he’ll probably break more than half of our stuff while shoving everything in boxes if I'm not there.”

Hoseok moves even closer, so he’s pretty much pressing Kihyun into the sink. One hand still grasping Kihyun’s, Hoseok cards the fingers of the other one through Kihyun’s soft -- softer than velvet, in Hoseok opinion -- tufts of hair.

“Can I see you after then?” He asks hopefully, his voice nothing but a soft whisper, as if the words exchanged between them are for their own ears only, and no one else’s.

An ardent smile tugs at the ends of Kihyun’s lips. From up close, Hoseok notices they’re still slightly bruised and swollen from when Hoseok had sunk his teeth into them and tugged them between his own lips last night.

“You know that fancy bar in the Downtown area?” Kihyun mumbles, not bothering to fight off the grin that keeps creeping its way back onto his face. When Hoseok nods in recognition, taking a split second to think over the younger’s question, Kihyun continues, “That's where I work. Pick me up at eight. I'll get someone else to pick up the rest of my shift.”     

After some continued back-and-forth flirting in the kitchen, Kihyun leaves after replacing Hoseok’s hoodie with his own clothes (the same pieces of clothing Hoseok had removed proficiently after they’d tumbled into his apartment last night, mid-kiss). Hoseok pushes his hoodie back into Kihyun’s hands just as he’s about to leave, though, saying he should keep it as a keepsake, of sorts. He also just likes it better on Kihyun. 

And Kihyun doesn’t argue, because he’d developed a liking for Hoseok’s hoodie. For how soft, comfy and loosely it fits on his frame. And it smells like Hoseok, too, like fabric softener with faint traces of brown sugar and apples. The saccharine combination blends together to strike a certain warmth in Kihyun. It reminds him of home and it makes his heart skip a few too many beats.   

.

**"** Minhyuk, the candlesticks go with the dining pieces,” Kihyun groans. He's crouched down in the midst of several cardboard boxes, some of which are jam-packed with his and Minhyuk's belongings, and some that haven’t even been touched yet.

Minhyuk waves Kihyun off with a dismissive grunt and a click of his tongue, snuggling up further into the armrest of the loveseat he’s sitting folded up on.

"Forget the candlesticks. The candlesticks aren't what's important here,” he says in protest. “Are you going to see him again?”

Khyun doesn’t bother looking up from the pile of thick-spined books he’s placing into an empty box, their pages and binding worn from the amount of countless times they’ve been flipped through.

 "We’re meeting up later, after I finish at work,” Kihyun drawls, stacking up book after book in the box. “Which I’ll be late for if you don’t fish out the candlesticks from the miscellaneous box,” he finishes, and points to a sea of boxes scattered around near Minhyuk.  

Minhyuk looks like he’s surrounded by a large halo of big, sparkly hearts, bunnies, unicorns and rainbows. Kihyun can literally see hearts spilling out from his eyes. “Oh, my God, Kihyunnie’s going on a date,” he sings. “A _date_ , like I told him to. It’s not the same person, but still, it’s a _date._ ”

"It’s _not_ a date.”

A little hesitantly, Minhyuk hops off the couch he’s seated on, clambering over to the cluster of boxes concentrated next to the coffee table. He digs around unceremoniously in search for the candlesticks, and completely ignoring Kihyun’s previous statement about it _not being a date_ , he asks, “Do you like him?”

“I don’t know, Minhyuk,” Kihyun replies exasperatedly. He’s always enjoyed such conversations with Minhyuk (the ones where either one of them gush about their dates to the other, squealing and yelping jubilantly more than actually saying anything), but he’s on a bit of a tight schedule at the moment to have fun with this. “He’s nice, I guess. We haven’t done much together-- I mean, except for sleeping together, that is. But it's too early to really be able to tell.”

Minhyuk hums to acknowledge Kihyun’s response, nodding as he does so, replacing the box he’s currently scavenging through with another. It's marked as ‘misc two’.

_"Lee Hoseok, Lee Hoseok, Lee_ _Hoseok,_ ” he mumbles the name under his breath repeatedly, as if he’s trying to pick at the thread of some deep-buried memory, or like it’s some sort of mantra. Kihyun gives him a quick furrowed look before returning his attention back to the books in front of him.

The older boy lets out sharp gasp in sudden realisation, looking like a deer caught in headlights -- he looks like he’s had a revelation, and Kihyun _almost_ snorts. “Oh, my God, is he _that_ guy?”

“The guy I slept with, you mean?” Kihyun arches an eyebrows at Minhyuk, lips pressed together gently. He waves around a worn-down and probably three-year old edition of reader’s digest before dropping it into a selected box. “Nice knowing you catch on quick.”

Minhyuk hurls a throw pillow at the younger boy. He aims and misfires, toppling over a stack of music CD’s next to Kihyun and it earns him a sharp inhale from the latter.

"Oh, sod off," Minhyuk quips, and Kihyun goes back to scavenging through his designated box with a sigh. “And, no, I mean he’s _that_ guy. The one who had a really bad breakup last year. Everyone heard about it. It was so messy, Ki, I swear. People said love actually died, like _literally_ , because I think the guy he was seeing broke something of his.”

There’s two conclusions that come to Kihyun’s mind, but he really doesn’t have the heart (or the guts) to ask Minhyuk if he meant _the guy broke Hoseok’s five-hundred dollar watch_ or _the guy broke three of Hoseok’s ribs_ , so he decides to just brush past the whole thing.

Tentatively running his hands over the lacey fabric of the weaponized pillow Minhyuk had tossed at him, Kihyun glances quickly at his roommate.

_"You know_ him?” Kihyun asks.

Shaking his head, Minhyuk starts pulling out some items from the box he’s focused his attention on. “No, not personally. Only by association and rumour, I guess. He’s Hyungwon’s roommate, right? And Hyungwon’s the cute friend-guy I was telling you about last week -- the one who’s in my business program. People talk about their roommate’s unfortunate relationships sometimes, and other times, word kind of gets around pretty quick.”

“ _H_ _yungwon talked?_ ” Kihyun tries to keep the surprise-element out of his voice. He _really_ didn’t expect someone’s friend to dish out personal information to others just like that.

"The alcohol did, to be precise.”

"Okay, go back,” Kihyun reprimands with a subtle shake of his head. He figures he doesn’t want to know what amount of excessive drinking drove Hyungwon into spilling everything. “You said something about a bad breakup.”

Nodding, Minhyuk pulls out a picture frame. It holds a picture of him and Kihyun from spring break, first year. They had taken a trip to Japan together, because Kihyun wanted to visit his mother and Minhyuk just tagged along. On their second day there, Minhyuk had insisted (read: begged, pleaded and pestered Kihyun) on stopping at the Meiji Shrine in Tokyo for sightseeing.

"He hooked up with this guy at one of those end-of-the-year parties,” Minhyuk divulges, brushing a few specks of dust off the frame. “He took things a little too fast, though, dropped the l-word two weeks into their relationship. It totally freaked the guy out. It was pretty ugly. Hoseok dyed his hair red for, like, three months after the breakup.”

Eyeing the picture in Minhyuk’s hand, Kihyun shuffles closer to his roommate, peering over his shoulder to get a good look. A smile tugs at his lips. “And I thought we’re way past the high school gossip.”

Minhyuk nudges Kihyun’s shoulder with his elbow, setting the picture down on the coffee table. “You asked, okay? And anyway, it’s never too bad knowing a little extra about the guy you’re having sex with, especially if he’s the typical old-fashioned lover boy, romantic type, and you’re really, _really_ not. I’m sure he's heard _a lot_ about you. Everyone kind of knows you. 

“ _H_ _ad_ sex with once,” Kihyun corrects. He makes the wise decision of whizzing over Minhyuk’s last few comments, because he doesn't want to know what Hoseok's heard about him. He's sure it's probably nothing great. Kihyun has heard how people talk about him. The words get uglier when they come from people who didn't get what they wanted.  _Player. Fuckboy. Hedonist. Slut. Whore._ At one time, it used to make Kihyun's heart tighten and contract. It doesn't anymore. 

Finally fishing out two silver, polished to a mirror-like shine, candlesticks, Minhyuk hands them to Kihyun, and the latter lets out an exhale of pure relief.

"And will have sex with again probably,” Minhyuk adds just as the younger boy pads over to his original place of sitting near the kitchen.

Kihyun grins, his eyes glittering and earrings glinting under the golden light of the afternoon sun. “Probably.”

.

Hoseok is ten minutes early.

It’s 7:50, but he doesn’t feel the slightest bit bad about it, because he walks in and spots Kihyun in a white, button-up shirt, tucked neatly into high-waisted, black pants. He's wiping down a tall IKEA glass with a thick cloth, before pouring some type of beverage into it, laughing heartily at something one of his co-workers had said. He looks perfect, like he’s some ethereal character born from the pages of a book, destined for the screen. And, _God_ , Hoseok swears he’s just plain _gorgeous_ , the literal epitome of embodied perfection.

There’s not a lot of people seated around the dimly lit venue, but Kihyun still looks like he’s been working a proper, hectic shift. His pink hair a fluffy mess of tangles and frizzy waves and his eyes smudged with bits of worn-down eyeliner.

When Hoseok eventually shuffles over to the counter, which he had seen Kihyun wiping vigorously through the window just before he entered, he leans over it on his elbows. There's a big, toothy grin messily contained on his face when he beams, “Hi, you.”

Hoseok’s knees almost buckle under him when Kihyun looks back at him over his shoulder, tearing his attention away from the rows upon rows of alcohol lining the wall-shelves behind the counter. The look on his face is just precious, something that can easily belong in an art gallery: lips slightly parted in question and eyebrows dipping upwards. Hoseok can even see intricate, spidery shadows of Kihyun's eyelashes being casted onto his cheeks.

Kihyun is still propped up on his toes, palming around a selection of bottles in search for some specific beverage, when he flashes Hoseok a bright smile. It’s more radiant than the sun, moon and stars combined. Hoseok’s belly swoops at the sight, but he just blames it on the cold, and the fact that he's not really wearing a scarf (scarves are _quite_ responsible for his state of breathlessness, Hoseok would argue).

"Hey, you,” Kihyun says through a big grin. He finally picks out a bottle (it’s half-filled with bubblegum-pink liquid -- Hoseok doesn’t even want to know how _that_ would taste), walking up to the counter to stand in front of Hoseok. His eyes instinctively dart back over Hoseok’s shoulder to the wall clock perched over the entrance door. “You’re a bit early; I’m still working.”

Hoseok tries not to stare too much at how big and round Kihyun’s eyes look with that orange eyeshadow he's wearing, or how his earrings catch the last few rays of sunshine.

Swallowing, Hoseok reassures, “I know, take your time, there’s no rush.” He eyes Kihyun’s hands amusedly, the way his tiny fingers are hopelessly fumbling with the glass container he’s trying so desperately to uncap. “Need help with that?”

Kihyun smiles sheepishly, giving Hoseok a shy, tentative look, lips pressed into a thin line. Hoseok can even see a span of pink dusting his soft cheeks. It’s absolutely adorable, and all Hoseok wants is to press a kiss to where Kihyun's lips dip into a bow.

Nudging the bottle across the counter towards Hoseok, Kihyun blinks. “Yes, please," he murmurs.

Chuckling softly, out of nothing but plain adoration, Hoseok takes it in his hands, working his fingers around the cap to twist it off the mouth of the bottle.

“Isn’t that a little fancy for a bar?” He questions, eyeing Kihyun’s attire, which is obviously more suited to waiting at a pretentious five-star restaurant instead of tending to a bar.

Once he returns the final, uncapped product back to Kihyun, the latter scoffs playfully, saying, “Yeah, it’s a pretty posh bar. I told you it's fancy. I got a pep talk from my boss for wearing a really ripped-up mesh shirt once,” and then calling out a name -- it’s either ‘Hongki’ or ‘Jungki’. Hoseok is too busy staring fondly at Kihyun’s eyes, his cute, little nose, the dimples of his cheeks, and then his perfect, pink lips to pay any attention to what he’s saying.

After passing the bottle on to the co-worker he’d previously called out to, Kihyun snaps his attention back to Hoseok. “I just need to change.” He holds up two fingers. “Two seconds, okay?”

All Hoseok can get in is a nod before Kihyun shuffles away into one of the break rooms. He reappears a minute later in a pair of black, ripped jeans that hug his thighs _ver_ y snuggly, and a thin, brown sweater in place of the button-up he was wearing before. The piece of knitwear is two sizes too big on him, with the neckline hanging loosely over his shoulders, showcasing his collarbones oh-so nicely. Kihyun’s also taken the opportunity to wrap a scarf around his neck. It's a warm, sunset orange and carolina blue, striped, and it's a splash of colour against pale skin.

“Shall we?” Kihyun asks, a jump in his voice. He cards his fingers through his hair and then holds his hand out for Hoseok to grab onto. Hoseok does, and slots their fingers together, presses softly and tugs Kihyun out the bar. 

It’s strange, a little scary, too, just how well they seem to get along. They’ve only known each other for maybe a little more or less than a day, and usually, if it’s someone Hoseok really, _really_ likes, he’s bound to feel a little awkward around them for two to three days.

It’s different for Kihyun. He just warms up to people unrealistically fast. Either that or he reels people in to warm up to him. But it’s so easy with Kihyun. They click so well, fitting together perfectly, like corresponding pieces of a puzzle. Anyone would assume they’ve known each other for quite a while.

For the most part, they just walk around, trailing through winding streets, over grass-trimmed pavements and a couple of suspiciously quiet neighborhoods, sides pressed close together, giggling to themselves about nothing in particular. Every now and then, Kihyun would blush and nudge Hoseok’s shoulder lightly whenever the latter passed a sappy comment, like, _“You’re so cute. How did you get to be so cute?”_ or _“Your hands are so ridiculously soft."_

“First time I had sex?” Hoseok’s lips are pressed together in a thin line, as he repeats a question Kihyun had asked him just a while ago. “Seventeen,” he answers with a small head-bob.

Kihyun scoffs. It's victorious and prideful. He playfully nudges Hoseok’s shoulder with his hand. It looks so tiny pressed up next to Hoseok's strong, thick build, and Hoseok feels the sudden urge to take it within his own and press a kiss to Kihyun’s knuckles,

“Sixteen,” Kihyun beams proudly, and Hoseok sticks his tongue out at him. There’s a small pause before Kihyun reveals, “I’ve only ever had one serious relationship.”

"Two serious relationships,” Hoseok divulges in exchange, jamming his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Both ended _horribly_. It was awful, but then again, every relationship I’ve ever been in ended horribly, especially one’s that weren’t serious."

Kihyun giggles adorably into his palm, and Hoseok purses his lips into a pout.

“I can do backflips. I was on the cheer team back in highschool, and my best friend was cheer captain,” Kihyun declares, traces of previous laughter still freshly present on his lips.

“I can do push-ups with you lying on my back.”

Kihyun gives Hoseok a skeptical look from the corner of his narrowed eyes. “You little liar.”

“I would like to point out that I am not little in the slightest. You look like a little hamster next to me. And I _can_ do push-ups with you sitting on me. I can literally drop down and show you right now,” Hoseok challenges, a smile playing at his lips when Kihyun shakes his head with mute laughter.

“I got so drunk once that I ended up sticking my tongue down Minhyuk and Changkyun’s throats, I called up an overly-dramatic ex and flirted with her over the phone, and then Yongguk refused to kiss me, so I threw my beer, bottle and all, at the wall,” Kihyun divulges, picking at the woollen tassels of his scarf. there's a tiny smile playing at his lips, and Hoseok wonders whether it's prideful or just due to wry amusement.

“You really know how to throw down, don’t you?” Hoseok teases, and Kihyun sticks his tongue out at him this time, nose wrinkled and eyes scrunched up into tiny, downturned crescents. It's really quite endearing -- terribly so -- to the extent that Hoseok wishes he could commit the sight to memory, just so he can look back at this moment and gush over _how fucking adorable Yoo Kihyun is_.

“Favourite place to go when you need to blow off some steam?” Hoseok’s grip on Kihyun’s hand is tight when he reaches to take it within his larger one, but also so, so gentle at the same time. He relishes in the feeling of having Kihyun’s petite, nimble fingers wrapped around his own longer ones; relishes in the feeling of perfection that comes along with holding Kihyun’s hand. “And don’t say, _Any place that lets me drink my bodyweight_."

They’ve been doing this for a while now, spewing random pieces of information about themselves (sometimes too competitively), and posing rather specific questions for the other to answer.

So far, Hoseok has found out the only sour (or mildly sour) fruit Kihyun can tolerate eating is kiwi. He doesn't do relationships, or as Kihyun said, _‘I don’t do all that yucky love stuff, because it's too much and too complicated’._ He hardly ever feels cold, even if temperatures dip below zero, which is probably why he gets sick so often. His favourite Broadway Show is Cats, and he said he uses papaya extract in his hair instead of conditioner when Hoseok asked about his hair.

    (“Your hair is so unbelievably soft,” Hoseok had said, and when Kihyun giggled, he tacked on, “It’s literally softer than, like -- I don't know --  _butterfly fluff._ "

That’s when Kihyun erupted into fits of laughter. They even had to stop walking for a while, because Kihyun had doubled over. “What’s ‘butterfly fluff’?” He asked after simmering down to soft, quiet giggles.

“I don’t know, but webster's dictionary would define it as, _N_ _ot Kihyun’s hair, because his hair is so much softer_.")

On the other hand, Kihyun discovered Hoseok’s passion for dancing (he even promised to come watch his group’s next performance, which was scheduled to be held in Busan). Hoseok’s favourite food item is ramyeon, which explained why his kitchen smelled so much like it (it earned him a quick scolding from Kihyun, too, because health-hazards and whatnot). He likes watching romcoms, because he’s an old-school romantic, but they make him cry more often than not and Hyungwon always teases him about it. Also, he has a whole shelf in his bookcase allocated to hosting the entire Harry Potter series (Hoseok admitted to being a bit of a bookworm and a huge Harry Potter fan).

Kihyun purses his lips in thought. He even does that cute thing where he sucks his bottom lip in till the seam and bites down on it, all the while squinting his eyes till they being to crinkle at the ends (Hoseok noticed it every time he asked Kihyun a question).

"There’s this bookstore a few blocks down from our apartment complex I like going to. It’s nice and homey, and it always smells like tea leaves; plus, the owner keeps his cat there with him,” Kihyun reveals ultimately, and Hoseok sees something sparkle in Kihyun’s eyes.

Hoseok runs his thumb over the back of Kihyun’s hand, repetitive and soothing. “I like that. It makes you seem all soft and cute.”

Humming contently and desperately trying not to preen too much at Hoseok's comment, Kihyun pegs on, turning his head just a little to look at Hoseok as he speaks, “What about you? Where do you usually go?”

“Maybe the laundry room in our building. It’s always weirdly warm, and I like the smell of fabric softener,” Hoseok snuggles closer into Kihyun’s side to drown himself in the warmth his bundled-up-in-wool form offers.

He realises, now that the sun has dipped way below the horizon to only let dull streaks of light crawl up into the sky, shrugging on his (insanely expensive) leather jacket probably wasn't the best idea. Hoseok really doesn’t know how Kihyun’s legs aren’t _freezing_ in those jeans, considering how they’ve got at least six big rips on each leg.

“ _Snuggle_  is my favourite laundry detergent, by the way,” Hoseok adds quickly, and a burst of colourful warmth blossoms through his chest when he feels Kihyun laugh a little at the statement.

When Kihyun sees Hoseok scrunch his shoulders together closer for the fifth time in a row, he stops walking, bringing Hoseok to a jolted halt as well. Picking up fast on little, tiny details is one of Kihyun’s things, one of which he truly prides himself on, and he’s able to figure out Hoseok is probably feeling a little chilly. It isn’t the toughest puzzle to piece together; the thin, designer jacket draped over Hoseok’s burly frame doesn’t seem to offer any protection from the cold beginning to lace itself into the evening.

Kihyun puts his fingers to work, fiddling with the fuzzy material of his scarf to undo it, ignoring how nonplussed Hoseok looks in this moment, lips parted and eyes blinking in confusion. It’s really quite adorable, and Kihyun can’t help but giggle inaudibly as he pulls and tugs at the article swaddled around his neck. 

“That’s the most adorable thing I’ve ever heard,” he gushes in response to the information Hoseok had divulged just a while ago, taking his unwrapped scarf and placing it around Hoseok’s neck, tying it off into a significantly professional-looking knot. The multicoloured piece of fabric stands out rather nicely against Hoseok’s pale skin, and Kihyun feels a little prideful, if nothing else.

“Do you always dress this inappropriately, or is this one of your moves. Act like you’re cold and get the cute boy to give you his scarf?” Kihyun teases, relishing in the way Hoseok's cheeks begin to fill with rosy colour and how he shyly shuffles his boot-clad feet under him.

Kihyun's hands are still draped loosely over Hoseok’s chest after he’s done tugging at the scarf to bundle it up around the junction of Hoseok’s neck and jaw. His hands seem to radiate this orange warmth, and it's seeping into Hoseok's skin and sending his heart into a frenzy.

"Is this better, though? Or do you still feel cold?” Kihyun pegs further, his voice carrying a slightly interrogative, but all the while altruistic, undertone, and if it's even possible, Hoseok feels himself a drowning in Kihyun's touch, his voice, his sweet, saccharine scent even more.

Hoseok only shakes his head, still looking slightly dazed, which only makes Kihyun giggle again. This time, he playfully tweaks at the hem of his scarf, which causes Hoseok to stumble forward a little. They just stare at each other then, Kihyun looking up at Hoseok from the one inch that separates them in height, a pretty smile dancing on his lips, bringing out the colour of his eyes and the soft curves of his face, and fingers still wrapped around the woollen material of his scarf, and Hoseok remains staggered, his eyes darted around Kihyun's face, and hands burrowed deep in the pockets of his jeans.

That’s until Kihyun’s phone starts buzzing aggressively in his back pocket, and he steps away from Hoseok just enough to fish it out and hold it up in front of him.

“What’s wrong?” Hoseok questions, tilting his head when Kihyun’s expression blanks out under the soft, silvery glow his phone screen casts onto his face, highlighting each and every contour-line just perfectly.

Kihyun takes a few seconds, fumbling with the device in his hands (Hoseok assumes he’s typing in a message), before looking back up at the other boy.

“I might have to go,” Kihyun unveils, and Hoseok can tell from the way Kihyun’s lips are curled into a frown that he’s probably just as displeased as he is, but when the older lets out a whine, Kihyun’s lips begin to host that tiny, god-lovely grin again. “Minhyuk needs me to grab some carrots for the bunny. He used up all of them last night for this revolting stir-fry he made, and Buzz won’t stop crying now.”

It doesn’t take Hoseok more than a second -- he doesn’t even have to _think_ about it -- to suggest with a small shrug of his shoulders, “I can go with you.”

Kihyun gives him a squinted look, as if he’s trying to scan for some sign of unsurety in Hoseok’s pretty eyes. He finds none. “Are you sure? I can always see you after taking a quick trip to the store and home.”

All Hoseok does is nod, before taking Kihyun’s hand in his again and heading in the direction of the nearest grocery store he knows of. The general idea is to pick one closest to their location as of now, provided it’s also not too far from Kihyun’s apartment building. “Yeah, of course, I’m sure; plus, this way, I’ll get to see Buzz, too, and that doesn’t sound so bad.”e

He can’t see Kihyun’s face -- not when Kihyun is trailing a step behind him -- but Hoseok is so sure he can feel him smiling.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When it's good, when it's gold 
> 
> You don't even know 
> 
> Just spend it all, just spend it all
> 
> [Lostboycrow - Thursday]

Two weeks later and Hoseok feels like he's walking on clouds.

It's been over two weeks worth of lethargic, unintentionally sappy, and sometimes immensely philosophical, deep talks after sex. Late night car rides in Hyungwon’s Porsche with the windows rolled down for those random trips to the grocery store at 3AM. (Hoseok gets these spontaneous, spur-of-the-moment cravings for ramyeon at times, followed by the need to stand by and watch as Kihyun makes it for him with Hoseok’s much too large hoodie thrown over his dainty frame). There's barely ever any need to use the Porsche anyway, but Kihyun likes it. Likes the late-night wind breezing through his hair, the dim, white starlight and the smell of dew and city nightlife. So Hoseok likes it, too. He's come to like and appreciate a lot of new things, _just because_ Kihyun likes them.

It had been oddly sweet and somewhat intimate with Hoseok taking Kihyun’s laundry over to his apartment on a regular, because Kihyun always leaves his clothes over at Hoseok’s. Falling asleep together on the couch after watching ‘Pretty Woman’ for the umpteenth time, because it’s Hoseok’s favourite and Kihyun doesn’t have the heart to say no. And waking up next to Kihyun on select mornings and having breakfast after, featuring a lazy game of footsie under the table.

The past several days had brushed past Hoseok in a gust of warm, wonderful air. They don’t talk about what it is that they have and are -- are they friends, are they dating? Are they just fucking? They’re just having fun, no labels, they have established. And fun means no responsibilities.

It means a lot of fooling around. Flurries of heated, wet kisses and impromptu makeout sessions on the couch. It means a lot of talking. Casual conversations over tea, the occasional tupperware-contained leftovers, and the lazy hum of some Julia Roberts movie playing in the background.

It works for them. The talking is therapeutic and soothing, and the sex is good. _Really good._ But more than anything, Hoseok finds a friend in Kihyun. It’s so easy with him -- comforting, even, like bounding into a warm, loving embrace. And Hoseok soon finds himself spilling every repressed, dark secret to him.

(Hoseok and Hyungwon’s little high school summer-fling even became somewhat of a conversation piece over a second serving of Kihyun’s heavenly pasta. After about five glasses of wine, Hoseok had spilled everything about how their summer fling was basically the sole reason behind his and Hyungwon’s friendship. He also happened to mention how they both swore to lie about it if anyone ever asked, _“Hey, so how’d you meet?”_ )

But with every time Hoseok receives a text message from Kihyun that’s purely constituent of a simple _H Hi_ and that cute, little sunflower emoji; every smile Kihyun flashes him when they wake up together under crumpled sheets, their hair in complete disarray and limbs tangled; and every _fucking_ time he gets the opportunity to lull Kihyun to sleep, his pink curls completely at the mercy of Hoseok’s fingers, Hoseok can feel himself falling deeper and deeper for the said boy.

Hoseok has tried to weave and knit his words together in different ways just to understand how _exactly_ he feels about Kihyun. The restless, pondering nights only rounded up to one conclusion. He’s fallen _into_ Kihyun, more than _for_ him, and he sinks deeper and deeper every day.

And before he knows it well enough to stop himself, Hoseok is already pining so hard for Kihyun, and all he wants is to be able to _have_ him. To not be guilt-stricken every time his heart dips in warm delight when Kihyun laughs, smiles, talks or even breathes, for that matter, because Yoo Kihyun’s mere existence knocks the air right out of Hoseok.

Hoseok wants to be _right there_ with Kihyun, so he can take him out on dates, and get to _call_ them dates, too. Maybe they could go grab brunch at that French bistro Kihyun really likes going to with Minhyuk, and Hoseok can help Kihyun take his coat off, because he’s suave and gentlemanly like that. Maybe he could sneak a few sips from Kihyun’s berry lemonade, and trade in some of his tomatoes for half of Kihyun’s chicken piccata.

(Hoseok does that anyway whenever they go out to grab a bite after work, class or just because. But Kihyun would always toss a napkin at him, and jokingly say something like, _‘Sharing half your food with someone you’re sleeping with is too much of a coupley thing to do,’_ and Hoseok would just nudge his foot disheartenedly).

Every other night, when they’re just lying next to each other, sprawled messily over the crumpled duvet and blankets, Hoseok wants to have the privilege of gazing deep into Kihyun’s eyes without feeling iffy about it, because he loves Kihyun's eyes. Hoseok thinks, if he looks into them long enough, he thinks he can see the ocean in them. The late night ocean, speckled with flecks of gold, glinting under the moon.

More than anything, Hoseok just wants to tell Kihyun all that. He wants to sputter it all out to Kihyun, every last bit, no matter now (overly) poetic it comes out.

Hoseok wishes he could bottle up every single one of their random, out-of-the-blue conversations, just so he can listen to them on-repeat as much as he likes. He adores the kind of dynamic he and Kihyun have, which lets lets them talk about all types of stuff. There was this one time they both exchanged ‘date moves’ at the sink whilst doing dishes, and there was this other happenstance where Kihyun wanted Hoseok’s opinion on whether or not he should get a pig.

(“If I get a pig,” Kihyun had begun, glancing up from his carton of noodles to look at Hoseok. “What should I name it? I was thinking ‘Bobby’ maybe, or even ‘Stevie'. Oh, my God, ‘Stevie’ is just adorable, don’t you think?”

“You want a pig?” Hoseok asked in disbelief, trying desperately not to choke on the piece of caramelized carrot in his mouth.

“Yeah, you know, one of those cute, little teacup pigs? The tiny ones?” Kihyun emphasised, shrugging and stealing a piece of soy-slathered beef from where it’s clasped between Hoseok’s chopsticks, earning a small, disapproving _Hey from_  the older. Kihyun just grinned and placed the meat in his own mouth.

Hoseok took a speculative sip of his juice (it’s had been a pleasant change, one that they’d both decided on implementing, considering the lavish amount of alcohol they devour on a daily basis). “Like the one you saw in that commercial that you won’t admit is an infomercial?”

"Exactly, that one. Wasn’t it so cute?” Kihyun gushed, and Hoseok swore his eyes were brimming with several bubbly-looking hearts. “And it’s _not_ an infomercial.”

Shaking his head, a tiny smile playing at his lips, Hoseok said, “Kihyun, they cost over five-hundred dollars. Plus, don’t you think Buzz is gonna feel all jealous and competitive?”

“Not if they become best friends.”)

Hoseok wants them to exchange tender, soft, quick kisses in the mornings when Hoseok has to run out at ten, because he’s already _so_ late for class. He wants to kiss Kihyun in a way that says more than just _‘I want you right here, right now’._ He wants it to be more meaningful, like  _‘I want you forever’_.

The one time he had actually kissed Kihyun so casually was way back at Hyungwon’s birthday dinner. It was just a small gathering: Hoseok, Kihyun, Minhyuk and the birthday boy himself. Hoseok had been running a little late, and he walked into the diner, tossing a quick _S_ _orry_ over his shoulder before swooping down to kiss Kihyun.

Everyone had gone painfully still after that, Hoseok included, who had just frozen right there in front of Kihyun’s face, his eyes wide with slow-burning realisation. They had all decided to _never_ speak of it again, as per request by Kihyun.

Hoseok’s apology followed through the next morning when he showed up at Kihyun’s apartment, a bag of Thai takeout clutched in one hand for, well, breakfast and a sunflower in the other. Additionally, he’d topped off with his best ‘I’m-sorry-just-remember-how-cute-I-am’ smile. Kihyun had maintained his irked facade for a while (just for kicks, really, nothing else), but he gave it up eventually with a, _“fine, I forgive you, you sap,”_ when Hoseok held up a piece of shrimp to Kihyun’s mouth, eyes pooling with silent pleads.

Hoseok wishes he could actually purchase at least one of those sappy hallmark cards he stops to stare hopelessly at every time he walks by. He wants to give the grossest, cheesiest one to Kihyun without chickening out last minute and shrugging it off as a joke. He wants to see the look in Kihyun’s eyes change when he hands him a card that says, “You’re my everything; everything else is just _everything else."_  And later, Hoseok would quickly change the mood with one of those ridiculously crude greeting cards that read, “my favourite thing to do is you,” or “love is what we’re making tonight,” because, well, he can.

He wants to apologise for the smallest, stupidest things that carry a secret undertone of sentiment and care, like, “I’m sorry, I didn’t do the dishes,” or “I swear I’ll learn to _not_ burn the lasagna for dinner next time,” and “I promise to pick up the dry cleaning next time, but I can rub your feet to make up for it; also, baby, I love you,” (and _, God_ , does Hoseok want to call Kihyun  _baby_ ). 

Hoseok wants to show off Kihyun like the pride-inducing trophy he is (not that Hoseok wants to objectify him. Kihyun just makes him feel _so_ good. If he could, Hoseok would parade himself around town with ‘I heart Kihyun’ stamped across his forehead). 

Hoseok wants to hold Kihyun’s hand, wrap him up in that ripped-to-shreds denim jacket of his that Kihyun loves so much. It would probably look way too big on him, though, but that’s okay, because it’ll be Hoseok's jacket and that's what matters. 

Hoseok wants to steal innocent, tiny kisses when Kihyun isn't looking, and be able to stare at him for as long as he likes without thinking he’s barely straddling _the line_ , or breaking one of the unspoken rules of being _just two_ _people fooling around_.

He’s so in love, so smitten and enamored with Kihyun that it’s almost stupid. Hoseok is _so_ damn unbelievably deep in love and he knows he's only going to fall deeper.

.

**18TH MARCH**

 "Where are you running off to in such a hurry?”

    Hoseok turns on the cleaved, chunky heel of his boot just as soon as he emerges from the break room, a backpack slung over his left shoulder and a set of car keys clutched in his right hand.

    “I’ve got a study date. a really, _really_ hot study date.” He grins, big and toothy, and Changkyun only scoffs, plucking an unopened bag of coffee beans off from one of the wall-shelves. “And naturally, I’m kind of in a rush, so could you tell Kwangji I need to sort out a few bills early this month, which is why I’ll be taking my pay in advance, and if there’s any problem with, like, whatever, he can just call me.”  

    “Yeah, I’ll tell him.” pouring the packet’s contents out into a jar, Changkyun jerks his chin up to gesture at Hoseok’s bag. “So who’s the really hot date?”

    Hoseok’s still smiling that thousand megawatt smile of his. It can easily rival the gold summer sun with how radiant it is. A little dreamily, he chimes, “Kihyun.”

    “Oh, yeah, right,” Changkyun drawls, his voice underlined with newfound recognition, as he crumples up the empty paper bag and tosses it into a nearby bin. “You and Kihyun-hyung,” he tacks on, screwing a cork lid onto the jar, which is now more than half-filled with roasted coffee beans. “I forgot you two were, _you know_.”

     Fiddling with the soft, woolly material of his periwinkle scarf,  trying desperately to tighten it around his neck, Hoseok raises a questioning eyebrow. “Is it really so hard to believe, Kyun?”

     “I don’t know, it’s just—” Changkyun pauses mid-sentence, a look of far-off wonderment in his eyes. “It’s _you_ , and it’s _Kihyun-hyung_ ,” He finishes, and Hoseok only gives him an even more confused look.

    In all honesty, Hoseok knows exactly what Changkyun means — heck, he knows he and Kihyun are probably the oddest match, and maybe even sort of a risky one — but that doesn’t mean Hoseok’s going to acknowledge it in front of anyone else.

    “I think we’ve already established the fact that it’s _me_ and _Kihyun_ . I just don’t get why the idea of us is so out of the blue,” he pegs on, all the while pulling out a rather adorably sized protein bar from one of those big jars on the countertop. He shoves one end into his mouth, holding it between his lips as he nibbles at it slowly. Changkyun had always felt prideful about them — they had been his idea after all, one that he'd suggested after hearing Hoseok complain incessantly about the lack of _good_ protein bars.

    Changkyun opens his mouth to respond, but Hoseok holds up a curtailing hand. “That’s okay, we can continue this later,” he mumbles around the protein bar, fishing his phone out from his jacket and eyeing the time before saying, “I’m already late, so give me the coffees I asked for earlier, and I’ll be on my way.”

    Exhaling slowly, Changkyun pads a few feet away to retrieve two large, lidded coffee cups, handing them to Hoseok in a cardboard holder before sighing, “two large lattes: brown sugar cinnamon and gingerbread,” more out of habit than actual necessity.

    Flashing Changkyun a quick smile, Hoseok beams, “thanks, Kyun,” and bounds over to the door, the coffees balanced on one hand, and his car keys gripped in the other.

    When he pulls up outside Kihyun’s building, it takes Kihyun roughly two minutes to buzz him in and tug him into his room (Hoseok trips over his own feet thrice and once over a pile of shoes near the door, almost dropping the coffees on each separate occasion), which evidently turns out to be a mess of papers, notebooks, pencils, solitary sticky notes and textbooks; plus, a dozen boxes and haphazard pieces of clothing.

    “Did a school desk throw up in here?” Hoseok asks, an underlying tone of playful teasing present in his voice, as he sets the coffee-holder, equipped with his and Kihyun’s lattes, onto Kihyun’s desk, before unwinding his scarf from around his neck, and shrugging his coat off to reveal a striped turtleneck sweater.

    “Very funny, I see my misery is quite amusing to you,” Kihyun retorts, crawling up onto his bed to settle down amongst a sea of fluffed up pillows and crumpled up sheets. He pulls his laptop onto his lap, tilting the screen up so it shines a dull glow onto his face, its contents being reflected onto the lenses of Kihyun’s round, wire glasses.

    Now that he thinks about it, Hoseok never really got the opportunity to appreciate just how gorgeous Kihyun is in those glasses. especially with his face completely bare (Hoseok can take advantage of that later and trace Kihyun’s beauty marks with his fingernail later) and his hair pulled to the side, like that, in a tiny ponytail. Hoseok feels like he's seen God.

    “Kihyun — _Yoo Kihyun_ — admits to feeling miserable,” Hoseok chimes, his mouth curled into a huge grin. He pulls his backpack open, fishing out a thick psychology textbook and a manilla folder stacked with notes. “What’s happening to the world?”

    Kihyun grabs hold of the nearest book he can manage, and hurls it at Hoseok, who’s able to dodge its trajectory just in time for it to miss his head.

    “Leave, I don’t need you,” the younger affirms, turning away from Hoseok to look back at his laptop. “I’ll just ask Hansol or Taeyong to help me with this godforsaken paper.

    “Firstly,” Hoseok begins, tossing his textbook and folder onto the pile of books on Kihyun’s bed. coffee cup in hand, he takes a quick sip before crawling up to sit right next to Kihyun, his denim-clad legs crossed under him comfortably. “Both, Hansol and Taeyong, are sucky psyche majors; you’ll be at a loss without me.” Hoseok takes another meditative sip of his latte, his mouth filling with sugary-ginger aroma. “And secondly, I’m way hotter than both of them combined, and that’s _very_ important.”

    Kihyun scoffs, glancing quickly at Hoseok before turning back to his laptop, and opening up a google document listed under ‘nature vs. nurture’. “Taeyong is pretty hot,” he mumbles, chewing at his bottom lip as he types in another few lines.

    “Not as hot as me.”

    “Hotter than you.”

    Hoseok’s jaw drops in feigned hurt, and he nudges Kihyun’s thigh with his knee, but to no apparent avail. “You’re mean when you’re stressed.”

    There’s an amused, full of adoration grin tugging at Kihyun’s pretty lips when he looks at Hoseok. “And you’re cute when you’re offended,” he chimes, bumping a curled finger against the tip of Hoseok’s nose, and the latter tries to — very unsuccessfully — hide his growing smile behind a pout.

    “Did you get me coffee, too?” Kihyun inquires hopefully, eyeing the cup in Hoseok’s hand.

    A small hum resonates from Hoseok’s mouth, a low, smooth rumble in his best, as he scrambles off the bed to grab the second coffee from Kihyun’s desk, and clambers back onto the sheets, tripping over a few piles of clothes and shoes in the process.

    “Yeah, here,” he offers the cup to Kihyun, who takes it with a grateful smile, humming contently when he takes a sip. “Now, how far have you gotten with this? Are we nearing completion even remotely?” Hoseok asks, settling his chin down on Kihyun’s shoulder to peer at his laptop screen.

    Kihyun turns the device a little, so it’s easier for Hoseok to see, and he answers, “I'm almost done, actually — yes, feel proud, because I sure do. I just need to brush up on the psychoanalysis part, and I honestly hate psychodynamics with a passion, so it might take a while.” He takes a small pause before scrunching his nose up, and Hoseok gives him a confused look.

    “You smell like gingerbread,” the younger of the two explains.

    “Yeah, but you love it,” Hoseok chirps, pulling Kihyun’s laptop out of his hands and placing it on his lap instead. In the process, Hoseok even pries Kihyun’s glasses off to set them onto his own nose. If he thinks about it, he really just did that thinking it would be cute, because the glasses aren't helping in any way, they're just making everything a little fuzzy.

    There’s a hull in the conversation, as Hoseok pulls his knees up to a gentle bend, the sound of keys being pushed into the keyboard a sweet, soothing hum, as Kihyun watches Hoseok type sentence after sentence into the document.

    After about seven minutes, Kihyun reaches to push his laptop screen down just enough for Hoseok to give him a questioning look. smiling big and bright, Kihyun asks, “are you hungry? I'm kinda hungry.”

    Hoseok looks exasperated when he sighs, pressing the tip of his index to the glasses perched on his nose to push them up. The memory of Kihyun whining, a little drunk and sleep-deprived, through the phone at 3AM is still sharp as a tack in Hoseok's head.

    (“This is so stupid, why do they expect an anthropology student, who detests — _detests_ , I repeat — sociobiology, to write half an essay worth of crap on psychoanalysis,” Kihyun had whimpered as soon as Hoseok had picked up his phone, pressed it to his ear and answered with a groggy _'hello_ ’ in his half-asleep state.

    Coining the mere idea of Kihyun sleeping his stress off didn't go so well, so Hoseok figured he'd just listen to Kihyun yell and whine until he sobered down into a less ultrasonic version of himself.

    “Will you please help me? You’re, like, super-uper-duper smart, and you know brain stuff. And I think I’m cute enough for you to say _‘yes’_.” Kihyun had said then, finally having simmered down after a solid ten minutes of screaming, and Hoseok felt his heart spill with adoration for the said boy, so he wound up agreeing to help him out with his paper.

    Needless to say, Kihyun showering him with drunk praises, like _you're so sweet — why are you so sweet_ and _you'll make a cute study date_ , didn't help keep Hoseok's heart grounded after Kihyun had thanked him, wished him goodnight and hung up on him.) 

    “Kihyun, you still have to finish off with the entire psychoanalytical part of this, and this is due next class,” he stresses, trying to sound adamant even when Kihyun whines softly, because deep down, Hoseok _knows_ Kihyun will be the death of him.

    But when Kihyun crawls a little closer until he’s practically sitting on one of Hoseok’s thighs, Hoseok really can’t help but feel his belly fill with butterflies. Kihyun presses his lips to Hoseok’s ear, and when he says, “just let me cook you something,” his voice is a low, silky whisper, and Hoseok really thinks he’s going to melt into a pile of goo.

    It takes Hoseok all the courage he can muster to push Kihyun’s laptop screen down completely, tugging Kihyun’s glasses off, and looking dead-straight into Kihyun’s fucking pretty eyes before saying, “yeah, okay, fuck it. Let’s go.”

     

* * *

 

     **A** S fate has it, their little early-dinner endeavour doesn’t really go as planned; not with Hoseok promptly coming up behind Kihyun, enveloping him in the warmth of his embrace to press hot, lingering, _hungry_ kisses along his neck and nibbling at his left earlobe. Every once in a while, Kihyun tries to wiggle out of Hoseok's arms, saying something like, “stop with all the neck-kissing and ear-biting,” and “it's too distracting — _you're_ too distracting — and I’m probably going to chop my fingers off.”

    It eventually ends up with them stumbling back into Kihyun’s bedroom, Kihyun’s fingers fastened in Hoseok's hair and Hoseok cupping Kihyun's tiny, tiny face with his big, warm hands as they kiss slow and sensual, and Hoseok doesn’t spare a second before pressing Kihyun into the sheets. They’re both highly proficient when it comes to peeling off every single layer of clothing. For the most part, they just tug each other's shirts and pants off, pressing clumsy, hastened kisses against one another's lips in the process.

    A sweet, orange glow blooms through Kihyun when Hoseok’s hands — so big, so warm, and so, so perfect — graze over his thighs, crawling up to palm over the smooth curves of his back. Kihyun breathes out something along the lines of, “you know I left the stove on, right,” but it’s lost to a plethora of whimpers when Hoseok, trailing hot, wet, _wonderful_ kisses down Kihyun’s belly, bites down onto the soft skin above his hips.

    The room fills up with soft, liquid noise when Kihyun claws at Hoseok's shoulders, grasping, whimpering, and whispering words of warm, saccharine praise into the skin of Hoseok's neck, heels pressed tightly into the small of his back as Hoseok fucks him in the blue dark.

    Hoseok takes every opportunity he gets to knead the soft flesh of Kihyun ‘s inner thighs and waist, gripping onto his frail, willowy frame as he presses him into the mattress. If it were anyone else, he'd feel a little more embarrassed about being so handsy, but it's okay, because he always feels okay with Kihyun — because Kihyun makes him feel okay.   

    The glorious, fervent sex digresses from heated, needy touches and lying tangled in crumpled sheets to taking Kihyun against the tiled shower wall. With Hoseok’s long, perfect fingers gripping at his already bruised hips, and lips mouthing at the skin available to him, pressing open-mouthed, wet kisses along Kihyun’s shoulder, he revels feeling of having Kihyun completely at the mercy of his fingertips.

    It’s post-sex — after they’ve gone a few rounds, each one more blissful and disorienting than the last — when Hoseok crawls back up onto the bed, right next to Kihyun. The younger boy is sitting folded up against the pillows in all his squeaky-clean, gorgeous glory, his laptop once again settled onto his thighs. He's clad in a loose white shirt — one that Hoseok had just randomly pulled out for him — and a pair of black briefs, a cloud of freshly fluffed pink hair atop his head.

    There’s no amount to the number of times Hoseok has seen Kihyun fresh out of the shower, looking crisp and radiant, but the latter still never ceases to steal Hoseok's breath away. Kihyun is just so beautiful and otherworldly with his damp hair that naturally falls into loose curls and pale skin that always seems to glow so nicely. So much so that Hoseok feels like he could die, like this, in the most wonderful way by just looking at Kihyun — _really_ looking at him and taking him all in.

    Hoseok settles down next to the younger boy, legs folded under him, his skin, white as freshly fallen snow, on perfect display in those tight boxer shorts of his. He never finds it difficult to just get lost treading down some long, winding path whenever he's looking at Kihyun, and Hoseok is always quick to notice the little, miniscule details of his, like how Kihyun's eyes crinkle when he smiles, how his eyes glimmer, like warm, molten gold, in the afternoon sun, or the way he always chews at his lip whenever he's buried deep in thought.

    Just like that, like all those times Hoseok has spent admiring Kihyun’s natural, easy beauty, he finds himself swallowing Kihyun in right now.

    Kihyun continues to fumble around with the display settings of his laptop, and even after turning the brightness up to the max, he still has to squint to be able to read off the screen. Everything just seems so hazy and fuzzy, like it's covered over with a sheen of murky liquid, and it's so hard for Kihyun's eyes to just _focus_ on something — _anything_.

    (The truth is, he still feels a little dizzy with warm delight from the way Hoseok had taken care of him after, rubbing over his skin with a soapy washcloth, shampooing his hair with a sweet-smelling coconut something. It had been so sickeningly sweet, especially when Hoseok crouched down to press tiny, chaste kisses on the insides of Kihyun’s thigh. The gesture admittedly had Kihyun feeling a little weak and wobbly in the knees.)

   Tiny droplets of water drip onto the base of Kihyun’s neck when Hoseok peers over the younger boy’s shoulder. A small smile graces Kihyun’s alluring and bruised-to-red-perfection lips when damp strands of Hoseok’s hair brush over his skin, but he remains fully immersed in the contents of his laptop screen.

    Hoseok leans his head onto Kihyun’s, asking, soft and quiet, like a whisper, “what are you looking at, Ki?”

    Humming in acknowledgement, Kihyun presses himself further into the soft comfort of the several pillows pushed up against the headboard. His tiny briefs leaves his gorgeous skin, blooming with purple marks and bruises, on display. The sight fills Hoseok up with more pride than his heart can contain.

    “My mom’s coming to visit,” Kihyun says, nibbling meditatively at at bottom lip. To ease away whatever mild discomfort he’s feeling, Hoseok takes it upon himself to trace lazy, miscellaneous patterns onto Kihyun’s bare thigh with his fingertip. Based on experience, Hoseok has learned gentle, fleeting touches always seem to soothe Kihyun’s nerves. “She said she wants to catch a show with me, so I figured I might as well look something up.”

    Hoseok nods timidly, and for a few moments, they remain soaked in silence and small brushes of skin-on-skin, thighs grazing just barely, and Hoseok’s fingers trailing over Kihyun’s calves, his thighs and hips. It’s comforting.

    “Can I ask you something?” the older boy chirps finally, his words are warm breath fanning out over Kihyun’s neck, fingers still tracing haphazardly over his soft, soft, _fucking soft_ skin.

    Kihyun only hums in reply again, still tapping away at the mousepad of his laptop, occasionally punching a few keys to type something in. He even taps a fingernail against the keyboard from time to time, Hoseok notices rather keenly, deeply buried in thought.

    Instead of mindlessly dragging his fingertips along Kihyun’s thigh, Hoseok resorts to using the tiny moles speckling Kihyun’s skin to map out constellations and such. He figures _that’s_ probably his go-to method of relaxation-therapy.

    “Someone — Changkyun, actually — said something today,” Hoseok mumbles warily.

    “Yeah? What’d he say that’s got you so worried?” Kihyun asks, eyes still glued to his laptop screen. Hoseok doesn’t need to see to be able to tell there’s a teasing, kind of playful smile on his face — he can practically _hear_ the grin in Kihyun’s voice.      

    For a few, precious moments, Hoseok stays quiet, fumbling with the hem of Kihyun’s rather large shirt. It’s not until Kihyun completely stops scrolling down some page on Yelp, and turns his head enough to look at Hoseok, soft and careful, mumbling a quick, “hey, you okay?” that Hoseok finally brings himself to look Kihyun in the eyes.

    Nodding promptly, Hoseok pivots in place, so that he’s facing the Kihyun, who's propped up against the headboard, and plops down back-flat onto the mattress.

    “It’s probably really stupid,” Hoseok admits quietly, clasping his hands together over his chest when he feels Kihyun’s eyes trained on him.

    Kihyun hums. He pushes his laptop screen down, placing it on the night-table, as he scoots closer to Hoseok. pressing the pads of his fingers into Hoseok’s skin, right over the sharp curve of his shoulder, Kihyun insists, “tell me anyway.”

    Hoseok takes a few deep, tentative breaths, visibly relaxing under Kihyun’s soft, soothing touches. Kihyun’s lips curl into a small smile when Hoseok’s eyes flutter shut just as soon as he presses down onto a sore spot on the junction between Hoseok's shoulder and neck.

    “Well,” Hoseok starts, and Kihyun prompts him to continue by brushing his fingertips over Hoseok’s collarbone. “He thinks we’re an odd fit — Changkyun, I mean.”

    “And what do you think?” Kihyun inquires, dragging his fingertips over Hoseok’s arm, brushing over the bare skin under the hem of his sleeve. Kihyun’s always had a therapeutic, calming effect on Hoseok, and without even trying, he manages to coax the most closeted pieces of information from him. It’s admirable.

    “I guess?” Hoseok asks rather than states, his eyebrows twisted into a deep-in-thought frown. “I don’t know, Ki,” he mumbles after  short beat of silence, and Kihyun, once gain, hums, low and deep.

    Biting down meditatively on his bottom lip, Kihyun stops to hover his index over the inside of Hoseok’s elbow. Right there, he busies himself with drawing circles onto his soft, supple skin, slow and repetitive.

    “Okay,” he says slowly, more contemplative than anything else, and Hoseok lets his eyes flutter open just long enough to see Kihyun swiping his tongue over his bottom lip, tugging it in between his teeth. It’s rather difficult resisting the urge to pull Kihyun down, only for Hoseok to bite and nibble at his lips till they turn the most brilliant shade of red (redder than that liptint Kihyun adores so much).

    With a deep, absorbent inhale, Kihyun continues, “you wanna know what I think?”

    When Hoseok nods, looking up intently at the younger boy, Kihyun tacks on. “I think I like this, and I think what we have works out only _because_ we’re so different — two completely opposite ends of the same spectrum balancing each other out, and all that,” Kihyun finishes, a small, genuine smile tugging at the corners of his lips when he looks down at Hoseok — really, _really_ looks at him, soft eyes and gentle, easy smile. For a brief, fleeting moment, Hoseok can swear he saw Kihyun glowing, beaming with a light of a thousand stars, the moon and sun. The mere prospect makes him feel like his heart has swelled up to thrice its size.

    And for a while, it’s just them shrouded in comfortable silence; Kihyun’s fingers tracing absent, comforting patterns into Hoseok’s skin, and Hoseok, buried deep in thought, gazing, unfocused, up at the ceiling — there are roughly six cracks in the coat of paint lathered onto it, he’s noticed.

    Hoseok swallows hard, and Kihyun watches as his adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “I didn’t think of it that way,” the older boy admits.

    Kihyun’s smile comes out in full colour now, and Hoseok feels his heart skip a beat (or two, or maybe even three or four) at the sight. relocating his touches over to the muscular, strong expanse of Hoseok’s chest, Kihyun trails his index over the strained, taut material of his shirt in small star-like shapes.

    “Besides,” Kihyun chirps, and Hoseok presses his lips down into a thin line, eyes wide in curiosity. “I’m having fun with you. It’s not everyday I get to be friends — like the whole touchy-feely, nice type — with the guy I’m sleeping with. It doesn't usually come hand-in-hand.”

    For the first time during the whole evening, Hoseok laughs, loud and hearty, the way he always does, and the sound fills Kihyun with a certain saccharine warmth. soon enough, Hoseok’s hand is gripping onto Kihyun’s wrist, tugging him down onto the sheets next to himself, and Kihyun doesn’t waste any time before gazing deep — deeper than Hoseok ever deemed possible — into Hoseok’s eyes, and crawling up onto him to straddle his hips. It doesn’t take more than a few seconds — not with Hoseok’s hands gripping onto Kihyun’s bare thighs, dangerously close to his ass — for Kihyun to swoop down, hands cradling Hoseok’s god-lovely face, to capture his lips in a kiss.

 

* * *

 

      **23RD MARCH**

   “ **Y** OU’RE lucky I can’t be mad at you for very long, Hoseok. Otherwise you’d be saving yourself a couple weeks of sex every two days. You do the math,” Kihyun grumbles under his breath, swirling his straw around in a glass of watered-down iced tea, the sunset-orange liquid turning into a tan brown with the amount of ice melting into it. Twenty minutes prior, almost, Hoseok had Kihyun tugged out of the library, away from an overdue essay of his and into a coffee shop. And Kihyun is grumbling into his tea now.

    Hoseok tears off a piece of muffin — he makes sure to pick a spot that has extra walnut — placing it in his mouth. “Oh, come on, Ki,” he mumbles softly, worrying at his lower lip once he’s swallowed his bite. “We’ve been doing so much better lately.”

    “You were supposed to come babysit Buzz when I had that play audition last week.”

    “Okay,” Hoseok starts, shifting around in his seat when Kihyun’s eyes start boring two big holes into his skull. He tries not emphasise too much on how Kihyun said ‘babysit’— how cute is that? “That was different.”

    Taking a tentative sip of his beverage, which has just distilled into an unappealing glass of weak tea, mixed in with lemon and sugar syrup, Kihyun purses his lips in distaste, his face twisting into an embodiment of disgust — it does _not_ taste good (not anymore at least), but Hoseok finds Kihyun’s reaction more than endearing. “How was that different?”

    Just out of sheer curiosity, Hoseok reaches for Kihyun’s tea, taking the straw between his lips to sip at the drink, and Kihyun giggles softly when Hoseok chokes on it. Once he’s taken a few hastened bites of his muffin to down the iced tea’s aftertaste, which is just pangs of bitterness, followed by this burning sweetness (Kihyun even rubbed Hoseok’s arm up and down in sympathy), he divulges, “Ki, I told you: they called me in at the studio that day, then Hyungwon drank too much after practice, and it’s hard enough dealing with him when he’s wrecked, so I wasn’t gonna lug him home, like that — I had to wait for him to simmer down.”

    It takes all of Kihyun’s willpower to not let a big, gummy smile unravel across his face at Hoseok’s little justificative rant. He’d learnt Hoseok had the tendency to ramble on a bit when he’d be nervous, or a little out of place. Shaking his head lightly, the minor movement sends pieces of Kihyun’s hair flopping and flying around in different directions, he picks up a couple of muffin crumbs off Hoseok’s plate. “Thank god you’re so charming,” he articulates through a string of tiny nibbles.

    “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

    Kihyun playfully swings his leg forward, driving the tip of his combat boot into Hoseok’s shin, and Hoseok earns himself another nudge when he doubles over in (rather dramatic) feigned pain.

    “Are we still on for dinner tonight, though?” Hoseok queries, pushing all jokes and teasing aside. “It’s saturday, in case you forgot.”

    Kihyun’s face adopts a different expression — one that’s more conceding and melancholy, rather than playful and amused. “Yeah about that,” Kihyun says. He fiddles around with one of the doily napkins lying on the table, twisting, turning and picking at the material till it’s worn out and tattered.

     “I’m sorry, my mom’s in town for a week for one of her book tours — I told you she's coming the other day, too — and she’s been begging me to have dinner with her since she got here.” Kihyun resorts to nibbling at his bottom lip instead of tearing up the poor napkin. “Min agreed to make dinner. He made pasta — _pasta_ , can you believe he made _pasta_? He even went wine shopping over the phone with my mom on the other line, just so they both get some sort of edge over me.”

    There’s no question about it — Hoseok had really been looking forward to having dinner with Kihyun ever since they agreed on doing so (it’s kind of because Kihyun’s food is always so good it makes Hoseok want to curl up in a ball and cry, but mostly because he likes being with Kihyun so much) — but he’s not going to blurt all that out to him. Instead, Hoseok just smiles. “That’s okay, but you owe me a dinner, though, and a little something extra to compensate for my sweet, understanding nature.”

    Kihyun laughs — it’s not a soft titter, but a proper, hearty laugh, and it makes Hoseok’s belly swoop deeper than he ever deemed possible (Kihyun always makes him feel things he’s only read about in Nicholas Sparks books, so it’s not much of a surprise). “I’ll make it up to you,” the younger chimes, his mouth still agape just enough to reveal a glimpse of his two perfect rows of teeth. “I promise.”

    The short beat of silence that follows brings in room for Hoseok’s mind to wander astray a little, and it’s enough for him to not be able to get Changkyun’s words out of his head. _“it’s you, and it’s Kihyun-hyung,”_ he had said, and ever since then, Hoseok hasn’t been able to shake the veil of discomfort and insecurity that had shrouded him, even though he talked to Kihyun about it (somewhat — not really, but whatever).

    After Kihyun takes it upon himself to steal away Hoseok’s gingerbread latte, spooning a few heaps of whipped cream into his mouth, Hoseok clears his throat softly and, a little skeptical, he asks, “so how come I’ve never met your mom, while Minhyuk knows her well enough to shop for wine with her over the phone, _and_ have dinner with her?”

    In all honesty, Hoseok doesn’t know whether he means it as a joke, or something he’d actually want Kihyun to answer sincerely (he _does_ know Hyungwon would smack him if he admitted he genuinely meant it), but thanks to Changkyun, and the heartbeat of a conversation he’d had with Kihyun about _them_ and _why what they have works so well together_ , it’s something he _needed_ to ask.

     “Well, because,” Kihyun starts, shoving another spoonful of cream into his mouth. He feels uncontrollable glee spiralling in his veins as soon as the sugary-caramel goodness melts on his lips. “She’s usually in Japan or London, so she’s hardly ever here for more than two weeks at most, and Minhyuk’s my best friend, so it’s a given he’d know her well.”

     When Hoseok notices Kihyun’s eyes widening gradually, along with a dopey grin beginning to tug at his lips, the older boy tugs his coffee away from him and towards his own end of the table. He doesn’t want Kihyun hitting a sugar high, especially not when he’s venturing to initiate a slightly serious conversation. “If Minhyuk’s your best friend, what does that make me then? What does that make us?”

     “Friends.”

     “Friends?”

     “We’re friends who have occasional sex every now and then?” Kihyun adds warily, slowly pacing his words out unsurely, because he really doesn’t know what Hoseok wants to hear.

      A that, however, Hoseok takes a napkin in his hands, nervously fidgeting with the soft papery material. He keeps his eyes fixed on his fingers — if Kihyun didn’t know what to say, Hoseok doesn’t know what he wanted to hear, but he knows for a fact that he preferably wants something more than _just a friend_ or _someone I occasionally sleep with_ (he also knows it’s probably just him who feels this way — Hyungwon had given him several pep talks on the subject). “That’s endearing.”

      Kihyun presses his lips together in a thin line, reaching to place his small, dainty hand over Hoseok’s fumbling hand. “I'm sorry,” he whispers softly, clutching Hoseok’s hand a little tighter when the older boy looks up at him. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

     Hoseok shrugs away the tiny pang that unravels in his chest, and manages to give a slightly grudging smile, balling up his fist under Kihyun’s soft, soft palm. “No, don’t apologise, I shouldn’t have asked. I mean, there’s no need to put a label on this — on us, on what we have,” he concedes, regardless of the fact that it’s just plain reassurement for Kihyun’s sake. “I’m fine with that.”

     It takes him a while, but Kihyun responds with a repentful smile; it’s not even a proper smile, not the big, beaming grin he gives Hoseok all the time (the one that travels up to Kihyun’s eyes, turning them into pretty, little crescents). It's just a subtle upward curl of lips — a thin, curved, apologetic line, that’s all.

     Hoseok doesn’t know what’s more unnerving: the way Kihyun keeps smiling at him, like that, as if he’d asked for something Kihyun could never deliver, pitiful even, for the rest of the day, or how he feels just as downcast as he’d be after pouring his heart out to Kihyun, divulging his feelings and just everything, only to have him outrightly toss it all aside.

  

* * *

 

     **24TH MARCH**

    **"OH** , my God, oh, my God, oh, my God,” Hyungwon exhales all in one breath. It's impressive, really, just how well his vocal chords and lung capacity perfectly complement each other. His voice is a few octaves way too high for Hoseok to be able to appreciate so early in the morning (it’s only eleven, but it’s still pretty early for a sunday). “You’ve done it again, haven’t you? _You’re in love with him._ ”

    Hyungwon, after partaking in the same conversation over and over again a myriad of times — courtesy of Hoseok’s polished knack for giving his heart away to just about everyone he hooks up with — is really not in a position to be serving good, supportive and empathetic advice. on the contrary, really, he wants nothing more than to hurl himself out the nearest window, and maybe drag Hoseok along with him.

    They’ve been over (mildly) the same conversation before. It had been a day or two ago when Hoseok had shuffled into Hyungwon’s room, flopped down stomach-flat onto his bed and unlocked his phone to flip through his ‘Buzz the bunny’ photo album. Hyungwon had smacked his face with a pillow when Hoseok began gushing over how sweet and lovely buzz looked, swaddled in his periwinkle scarf and bundled up in Kihyun’s arms. (“You’re in love with him aren’t you? You’re in love with him and his bunny, and you think it’s sweet and romantic, because Kihyun’s, like, this single father with a bunny-child, and you’re the new daddy,” Hyungwon had concluded, only to be met with silence and Hoseok’s disgustingly lovesick grin).

    They’re in the kitchen, with Hyungwon situated next to the sink, a pot of freshly brewed coffee in one hand and a plate of warm, toasted waffles in the other (they’re the little, round ones Hoseok loves so much), and Hoseok’s sitting at the table, his legs folded under him, waiting expectantly for a mug of steaming, hot coffee to be placed in front of him. Instead of receiving his beverage, he’s been involuntarily signed up to hear Hyungwon flip out over sunday breakfast. maybe Hoseok shouldn’t have divulged his newfound (read: not-so-newfound) feelings for Kihyun _just_ yet.

    But given the amount of high-pitched yelling and heated arguments that have been exchanged over their kitchen table, Hoseok is more than used to it by now (he bets all the hyper-excitement has soaked into the walls and furniture, too).

    He exhales slowly through his nose, straining to keep his eyes glued to the book clasped within his fingers — something about three different tragic love stories that collide at the end right in time for christmas (Hoseok’s always been one for soft-hearted romantic comedies). There’s a pair of thin, round glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, and his tangled fringe is pinned back with the help of two glittery chip-clips.

    “Calm down, it’s not that bad yet,” he mumbles under his breath, trying not to let Hyungwon’s much-predicted nagging throw him off his book. It’s just gotten interesting; one of the main characters fucked up big time and forgot to pick up her friend’s pig from the store.

    A deep shade of astonishment paints over Hyungwon’s face, his pretty eyes comically wide with disbelief. “Calm down?” He slams the plate of waffles and the coffee pot down on the table with a loud thud, causing Hoseok to jump a little in his seat. “ _Calm down_ ? How can I ever calm down when it’s _you_ ? And ‘ _yet’_ ? So even you admit this is going to get out of hand soon.” Hyungwon is now sitting at the table, too, just across from Hoseok. “At least it’s been more than a week this time, but still, oh, my God — _oh, my fucking God_ , Hoseok.”

     Finally closing his book shut, Hoseok tosses it onto the table — no way is he going to be able to as much as register a single word with Hyungwon’s yelling, much less a sentence or even an individual paragraph. Hyungwon hisses as the book just _barely_ misses the coffee pot — God, is he dramatic. “I can’t help it, alright? He’s so perfect, wonnie. He’s cute, funny, adorable, and he’s so pretty I wanna cry. He makes me happy; it’s like I’ve found my—“

     “I swear, Shin Hoseok,” Hyungwon injects, holding up a hand in protest, his eyes dangerously wide, and Hoseok is unpleasantly reminded of last christmas when Hyungwon thought it would be fun to try as see if he can sneeze with his eyes open. It wasn’t a good decision, and all the liquor he had indulged in didn’t help (that day is the reason Hoseok still has nightmares). “If you say he’s your soulmate, I will pull my arm off just so I have something to throw at you.”

    He lets his eyes flutter shut as he takes a deep, calming breath (—“thank you, yes, _breathe_ , Wonnie,”— Hoseok adds, earning a small growl from the younger) before saying, “need I remind you this is Kihyun? _Kihyun_ ,” he repeats cautiously. “ _Yoo Kihyun_.”

     Hoseok scoffs. “I’d hope not,” he pours a steady stream of coffee into his signature blue mug, the one that’s chipped at the rim and decorated with tiny, embossed snowflakes — it’s the same one his sister had parcelled to him from Anyang as a christmas gift. “I think I know who I’ve been sleeping with for the past several days."

     This time, Hyungwon scoffs, leaning back into the backrest of his seat, his left leg folded over the right one. “You do know what he’s like, right? Or are you just playing dumb?”

     The steam spiralling up from his coffee fogs up Hoseok’s glasses when he brings the mug to his lips. “You mean, like, in bed?”

    Hyungwon makes the wise decision of completely brushing past Hoseok’s sucky excuse of a reaffirmation. “There must be a special place in heaven for me for putting up with you since high school,” he grumbles under his breath, and Hoseok swings his leg forward to kick the younger’s shin. “He’s not into relationships, Hoseok. He's more like the 'we’re-friends-and-a-little-something-more’ type of guy. So this is as far as you'll get with him.”

    With an exaggerated gesture of his hand, Hoseok says, “I know, you don’t need to get so excited. But, you know, maybe it’ll be different this time.”

    There’s a stern, steady look in Hyungwon’s eyes when he leans onto the table on his elbows. “I’m ready to bet my insanely expensive Off-White jacket — the cropped military green one — that Kihyun's slept with almost every guy in his program, and then every guy in _your_ program, and then mine.” He shakes his head. “You know what? I’m sure he’s slept with everyone we know, or most of them if not all, because he's not _that_ type of guy. So how can this be any different?”

    A shuddered, sharp gasp eaves Hoseok chapped lips, the fingers of his left hand pressed up to his agape mouth and his eyes wide (almost comically). “You’re crazy about that jacket, like, actually fucking insane. You almost hurled a plate at me last Christmas when I asked if I could borrow it, and I only _asked_.”

    “That’s precisely my point.”

    Hoseok lets out a defeated sigh, letting his shoulders slump. He sticks a finger in his coffee, swirling it around meditatively — it tastes horrible anyway, maybe he’ll just pour it into timothy’s pot (Timothy is Hyungwon’s prized-possession of a succulent, the same one he’d bought at a local farmer’s market last year). “Okay, fine, I know Ki’s not the most romantic or commitment-ey guy out there—“

     “As opposed to you, who wears his heart on his sleeve and falls for just about everyone he sees,” Hyungwon interrupts through a smug grin.

    “You’re an asshole, you don’t need to prove it every second of every day.”

    With a soft clearing of his throat, Hyungwon drums his fingers against the table embarrassedly. “Sorry.”

    “I just—” Hoseok inhales slowly, trying to centre all his thoughts. “I really like him, okay? And it’s not just about the sex with us, we’re friends, too, which is what I like about this — it’s what I like about him.”

    Hyungwon doesn’t argue, because he can see the sincerity in Hoseok’s eyes. As much as he loves to seem indifferent and apathetic, Hyungwon, not that he’d ever admit to it, finds it endearing just how easily Hoseok is able to let people come up and carve their names onto his heart, but he knows better — both of them do. “I know,” he says softly, putting so much care in his voice, as if Hoseok is a fragile piece of china. “But you don’t want to freak him out, it's just been a little under three weeks anyway.”

    Hoseok gives him a timid, understanding nod. He picks disheartenedly at the frayed hole in the plush material of his sweatpants. “Yeah, I know. i’ll— yeah.”   

    With Kihyun, Hoseok lives in the moment, cherishing every touch and exchange of words. That’s what Kihyun’s like — that’s what _being_ with Kihyun is like. He’s water slipping between Hoseok's fingers, the sea waves beating along the shoreline, serene, glittering and transient, a moonbeam right before the crack of dawn, a meteor streaking across the sky — he’s there, smiling, laughing, kissing Hoseok and twisting his fingers in Hoseok's hair, but then he’s gone in the blink of an eye.

    Shin Hoseok is the calm sea after the storm; gentle, rolling waves foaming softly along the rock-pebbled beach. Yoo Kihyun is a fucking _hurricane_ ; fleeting and intangible, owning a polished knack for wreaking havoc.

 

* * *

 

    “ **S** O,” Minhyuk starts. There’s a hint of suspiciousness to his tone; throw it together with how he’s tracing the rim of his wine glass, and Kihyun is more than convinced Minhyuk probably borrowed (without permission) and misplaced either his favourite silver hoops or those Louboutin boots he adores more than life. The rest of the sentence doesn’t quite match Kihyun's expectations though. “How’s your _boyfriend_?” 

    “ _Jesus_ , Minhyuk, he's not my boyfriend.”

    Minhyuk grins against the side of his glass when he takes a sip, the liquid tinting his lips a deep shade of red. “Well, at least you knew who I was talking about this time.” He points his chopsticks at Kihyun, a piece of carrot wedged in between them at one end. “That’s some major character development right there.”

    Kihyun doesn’t respond. instead, he simply dips his head down, keeping his vision restricted to the contents of his carton of noodles. He’d put out plates for them both (he thought they’d use the fancy,blue ones he'd hauled out of his mother's house, because Kihyun got casted for this student production he really wanted to partake in, and the occasion called for something _nic_ e), but they ended up eating directly from the takeout boxes.

    “No, really,” Minhyuk pegs on, reaching across the table to dig into the carton of fried-squid. “You guys seem to be having a lot of fun; plus, you look really happy, so I’m guessing it’s going well.”

    ”Yeah, we are having fun,” Kihyun admits, pushing the squid closer to Minhyuk when the latter continues to fumble around with it for a while. “I like how we’re doing, but it’s really no big deal, because we’re just friends,” he finishes with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders, shoving a swirl of pink noodles into his mouth.

    Minhyuk seemingly chokes on the piece of seafood in his mouth, and Kihyun hurriedly hands him his wine — he feels like he should win an award for being so undeniably caring.

    “Right.” Minhyuk coughs, a hint of a grin present on his lips. “You're friends, but not really, because you're actually a little something more,” he says, and dabs away traces of wine from around his mouth with the hem of his sleeve. “Because I hope you know it’s not a secret that you two have sex almost three times a week. You’re not very good at hiding it, Kihyun.”

    At that, Kihyun smacks Minhyuk’s leg with his foot under the table, grimacing a little when the older boy hisses at the action contact. “What I mean is, yeah, fine, I’m sleeping with him, but that's it. After that, we’re actually, _really_ just friends,” Kihyun emphasises, drawing each word out slowly for Minhyuk’s benefit — it only earns him a smack on the arm.

    “And anyway,” Kihyun tacks on. “I like it with him, even when we’re not fooling around and stuff. He makes it feel so nice and easy, like you can _actually_ get to be friends with someone you're sleeping with — the nice, good type of friends, who joke around and talk and all. Plus, he’s really sweet and he makes me feel good, and I just really like how it’s going right now.”

    “Does he feel the same way?”

    “About what?”

    Minhyuk almost pokes Kihyun in the eye with his chopsticks when he gestures with his hand. “About you and all this? Is he okay with not letting this become something more serious and exclusive — are you guys exclusive, by the way?” When Kihyun shakes his head, cheeks puffed with a bit of Minhyuk’s Pad Thai and a wonton, Minhyuk continues, “because it's been, like, three weeks now, and I know you, and _you_ know you, and you don't really take anything further than this, because you don't have it in you to emotionally invest, or whatever.”

    “That’s not fair,” Kihyun says after swallowing with a big gulp, eyebrows knitted together and lips pursed slightly. “I _do_ care about Hoseok and I obviously don’t want to hurt him, because, like I said, he’s a friend — I mean, I’d never want to hurt you.”

    “Except we don’t sleep and take baths together, and exchange deep, dark secrets over massages and candlelight, and I don't give you, like, fifty-thousand hickeys everytime I see you.”

    All Minhyuk gets in response is an eye-roll.

    Tapping the end of Kihyun’s chopsticks with his, Minhyuk gulps down the few centimetres of wine pooled up at the bottom of his glass. “I hope you know for a fact that he might get in too deep — someone _always_ does more often than not — and I hope he knows where you are in all this. So does he?”

    There’s a speculative, calculating look in Kihyun’s eyes, followed by a short beat of silence, wherein Kihyun meditatively mutilates a shrimp from Minhyuk’s Pad Thai. He’s suddenly very aware of how dry his mouth is, so he downs his half-full glass of wine and reaches for the bottle to pour himself some more. “It could have been anything and maybe I’m just making a big deal out of nothing — I don’t know,” he says finally, piquing Minhyuk’s level of interest (and concern) by the second. “But he wanted to know what I think we are, and I made a joke, but then apologised, because it was kind of crass, but then he said it’s okay if I don’t want to put a label on what we have.”

    Minhyuk keeps his eyes, slightly wide, trained on Kihyun when the latter gulps down another glass-full of wine. “That’s what anyone would say — to you especially,” the older says warily. He reaches, like the good best friend and roommate he is, to stow the wine bottle away from Kihyun’s reach, only to have his hand swatted away by the tipsy boy in question. (Kihyun, despite being the wild, carefree party animal he is, has the most minuscule tolerance for alcohol — he still drinks, like there’s no tomorrow, though,)

    Kihyun props an elbow onto to table and leans his head into his unfurled palm, tightly fastening nimble fingers in his hair. “This gets so hard sometimes, and it gets harder the more I think about it, and I don’t even know _why_ it’s so hard, but it is, and I don’t know how to make it any easier.”

    Minhyuk smacks Kihyun’s hand away — he keeps telling Kihyun he’ll go bald if he doesn’t stop gripping his hair, like that. “How is it hard?”

    “As in, I like how we are,” Kihyun explains and there’s a distinct hint of concern in his eyes — Minhyuk can easily tell he’s scared (whatever of, he’s not sure, but the rest he knows). He picks himself up off his chair and wanders over to the countertop nearest to the fridge. When he discovers he's emptied out the current bottle of liquor, Kihyun takes his time fishing out an old, unopened bottle of what seems to be merlot from the depths of the liquor cabinet. “It’s fun, sweet and nice with no responsibilities, and I don’t want us to put an end to it just yet, but I feel like he expects us to, _you know_ , move forward or whatever.”

    Taking a deep, long breath, Minhyuk slumps against the back of his chair as Kihyun uncorks the wine and takes a nice, long swig straight from the bottle, not even bothering to take a step or two towards the dining table to repossess his glass. “I think you guys should really, honestly talk about this. Figure out what you both want.”

    Kihyun scoffs before laughing wryly around the rim of the bottle and taking another couple sips. Some of the wine drips down his chin, and Kihyun unceremoniously wipes it off with the back of his hand. “I’m no good at that. I’ll probably just say something stupid.”

    Pushing his seat back, the chair legs screeching against the hardwood floor, Minhyuk picks two empty takeout cartons off the table and tosses them into the trash bag tucked away under the sink. “You should at least _try_.”

 

* * *

  

     **25TH MARCH**

     **W** HEN Hoseok twists open the door to Kihyun’s apartment — he decides to brush away the uneasiness that comes along with finding the door unlocked — the first thing he notices is the acrid smell of thai wafting into the warm, winter-firewood scented air.

    Even Kihyun smells mildly of firewood embers, Hoseok has noticed, but more than anything, he observes the scent of soft blankets and freshly-husked coconuts. All three condiments blend together perfectly, in Hoseok’s opinion; they make his head spin with the feeling of everything wonderful in the world. Hoseok usually takes respite in Kihyun’s saccharine, homey scent to lull himself back to sleep late at night or early in the morning, right at the break of dawn, when Kihyun is curled up against Hoseok’s chest, his lips parted just a tad around soft, gentle snores.

    The second thing that Hoseok brings his attention to is a bundle of white fluff hopping its way over to his feet, and Hoseok almost mistakes it as a ball of wool until he makes out a tiny, pink nose, silver whiskers, a round, poofy tail, two big, blue eyes and a pair of adorably floppy ears, and realises with a slowed down _‘oh’_ that it’s just Buzz.

    Naturally, his first manner of business is to scoop the bunny into his arms, press a wet kiss to his nose, letting him take his sweet time sniffling around Hoseok’s face, and settle him down into that tiny nest Kihyun has made for him on one of the plush armchairs. It's a simple bed of sorts, Kihyun had explained once, crafted purely from one of his old scarves, looped and folded expertly to make a nest, as Kihyun likes to call it, because he hates keeping Buzz in his cage all the time, and prefers to leave him scurrying about the apartment when he's around, because he’s a good bunny, house-trained and all.

    Before anything else, Hoseok makes sure Buzz is comfy, warm and ready to doze off, because it is, after all, his designated nap time.

    The third amenity that comes to notice is the mess that is the sitting area, and Hoseok has to double check just to confirm that this is in fact _Kihyun’s_ apartment. Decorative throw pillows scattered all over the floor and furniture, two prodigiously empty wine bottles thrown onto the coffee table and a half-full bottle sitting uncorked next to the blue ottoman in solidarity, a bowl of almost-completely-crushed pretzels placed on one of the end-tables and a pile of what appears to be a dozen blankets dumped onto the big couch.

    It takes Hoseok a while, but he discovers the lump of blankets is in fact just Kihyun curled up under his favourite fuzzy, mustard blanket and the loose-knit throw he keeps folded up over the back of the couch, swathed in at least three-inches worth of soft, soft fluff.  

    Pushing all curiosities aside, like why Kihyun is sleeping out on the couch instead of in his room, Hoseok shuffles across the floor to the Kihyun-sized bundle of bedding, maneuvering himself so he’s able to fit himself in a tiny, vacant space next to Kihyun’s socked feet. He’s wearing the fluffy, grey pair that are probably a size too big on him, so the fuzzy material ends up bunching around Kihyun’s ankles and half his calves, but Hoseok loves them on Kihyun. They make him seem like a warm, sensitive and insanely adorable somebody, kind of like a fuzzy bear, a concept Hoseok adores so fondly.

    “Ki,” Hoseok calls softly, rubbing at what he assumes is Kihyun’s thigh in big, gentle circles. Startling Kihyun awake is something Hoseok would never dream of doing — he wouldn’t ever want to do anything to hurt or scare his soft, baby Kihyun, even though Hoseok knows Kihyun isn’t (and probably never will be) _his_ anything.

    There’s no response, except for a tiny, adorable whine, followed by momentary stirring, so Hoseok calls again, twisting his fingers in Kihyun’s velveteen tufts to ease him back to consciousness, “Kihyunnie.”

    Kihyun’s eyebrows are pulled close together in a soft frown, nose scrunched up and lips pursed into a pout when he whines again, but this time he pushes the covers down a little so they bundle up around his form, chest-down instead of swaddling his neck and jaw.

    “ _Kihyun_.”

    A gentle shake finally wakes Kihyun up, eyes wildly out of focus and crusty with sleep-dust when they dart around the room. Hoseok promptly wraps his fingers around Kihyun’s forearm, rubbing soothing, lazy patterns into his supple skin just to calm and reassure him, smiling softly when Kihyun’s dark eyes meet his own.

   There’s a beat of silence, characterised purely by Kihyun blinking dubiously at Hoseok, and Hoseok continuing to trace random, haphazard shapes onto the warm skin of Kihyun’s arm. Kihyun looks far too confused to actually be able to string together a coherent sentence, so Hoseok says, ”I think Buzz hopped out of bed when I came in, so I put him back to sleep. Also, you left the door unlocked, Ki.”

    Kihyun hums in acknowledgement, letting his eyes flutter shut slowly. “Thank you,” he whispers, his voice warm and liquid. It leaves Hoseok’s nerves tingling. “I’m surprised he’s so good with you; he never lets Minhyuk tuck him in.”

    Hoseok chuckles softly. “You left me a message last night,” he says. “You said you wanted to talk.”

    Kihyun rubs lethargically at his eyes with tiny, balled fists. “I did?” he inquires, his voice still incredibly husky with remnants of sleep. Hoseok notices Kihyun struggling a little when he tries to pull himself up into a sitting position, so the former lends a hand, helping Kihyun up, so he can comfortably sit up against the side of the couch and fold his legs under himself.

    “Yeah,” the older boy answers, giving Kihyun a squinted look when the latter presses down onto the sides of his forehead with his thumb and index, wincing at nothing in particular. “Are you okay?”

     _“_ No. God, I’m sorry, I just have this splitting headache,” Kihyun answers rather arduously, still massaging furiously along his temples and browbone, eyes squeezed shut and lower lip pulled in between his teeth.

    “More all-nighters?” Hoseok asks, his voice full of concern as he takes Kihyun’s hand in his and presses softly, trying desperately to ease Kihyun’s pain away by rubbing along his fingers, knuckles and all over his palm. “Ki, I swear, I’ll start putting vicodin in your water supply.”

    Kihyun chuckles quietly, noticeably relaxing under the warmth of Hoseok’s gentle touches. “If all-nighters means three bottles of merlot and a dozen buckets of tears, courtesy of ‘Terms of Endearment’, then, yeah, sure, all-nighters it is.”

    Hoseok feels a little stupid for not having pieced the puzzle together sooner; the wine bottles, the tragic state of disarray the apartment is in (Hoseok doesn’t need a certificate to prove he knows how much Kihyun resents unclean, messy spaces) and the strong, albeit warm, smell of alcohol shrouding Kihyun and settling over them both, like a thick blanket — Kihyun had _obviously_ been drinking, that, too, vigorously to sate some sort of uneasiness.

    Pulling his hand away from Kihyun’s, Hoseok hops up to his feet and pads away into the kitchen, leaving Kihyun groaning softly at the lack of warmth next to him. He digs out a tin of black tea leaves from the back of a select cabinet, swiftly boiling it in some water and combining the steeped tea with a teaspoon of honey in Kihyun’s designated yellow mug. During it all, Hoseok’s eyes land on a fourth bottle of wine buried deep in the contents of a trash bag, and he can’t help but let out a sigh.

    “Jesus, Ki, did professor Seungkwan give you a shitty grade or did you lose your favourite jacket?” he huffs out, shuffling back to Kihyun, carefully pushing the mug into his hands and then proceeding to adjust the blankets around him, tucking the edges under Kihyun’s thighs and torso to make sure he keeps warm and cozy.

    “Oh, fuck off, _no_ . I think we were having dinner — Minhyuk and I — and I just had too much to drink,” Kihyun explains, flashing Hoseok a sweet, thankful smile when the older boy finally plops down next to him. He takes a small, tentative sip of his tea, humming in pure satisfaction as his chest and belly swell with sugary warmth. Hoseok can’t help but feel a little proud; he did good. “I was _probably_ hammered when left you that message, but it’s all really fuzzy, so I can’t remember exactly,” Kihyun tacks on, sipping yet again at the steaming hot beverage clasped dearly in his hands, savoring the sweet burn trickling down his throat as he swallows.

    It’s not uncommon for Kihyun to consume such lavish amounts of alcohol — Hoseok knows that fairly well, even while keeping Kihyun’s low tolerance for the said poison in consideration — but he feels this river probably runs a little deeper, which massages Hoseok’s speculation even more.

    “Something on your mind?” Hoseok presses, wrapping his arms around his knees to tug them up to his chest. “I know you usually don’t drink _this_ much. I mean you _do_ drink, but, yeah.”

    Kihyun looks buried deep in thought, chewing at his bottom lip, furrowing his eyebrows and tapping a fingernail meditatively at the rim of his mug. His tongue even darts out to sit between his lips, and Hoseok feels a burst of fondness bloom through his chest at the sight — how someone can be so adorably charming is still a mystery to Hoseok.

    “I don’t know,” Kihyun whispers finally, his voice small and hushed as if he’s revealing something of a secret to Hoseok — something meant for his and Hoseok’s knowledge only. “I don’t remember what happened or anything.”

    Passing Kihyun a sympathetic smile, Hoseok busies himself with fiddling around with the infamous frayed hole singed into the couch upholstery. He can recall five different incidents where Kihyun swore to Christ he was going to get the furniture reupholstered, but then admitted the plan had been two years in the making.

    “I’m kind of glad you called, though, I had to ask you something anyway.” Hoseok continues to pick at the tattered fabric, desperately trying to avoid Kihyun’s eyes, which are quite inconveniently trained on him. “So Hyungwon’s having a party sometime this week—“

    “Oh, yeah,” Kihyun interjects, lifting his eyebrows a little in recognition — it’s endearing just how happy he looks to have been able to remember at least _something_. “Min told me. He’s been screaming and squealing about it for two days now,” he finishes with a giggle, shrugging his shoulders up a little in laughter. The soft movement causes Kihyun’s tea to lurch up towards the rim, and Kihyun’s lips curl into an ‘o’ shape as he tries to nurse the beverage back to serenity.

    Hoseok laughs quietly — whether it’s because of what Kihyun said or because of how he (very adorably) reacted to his tea almost spilling all over, Hoseok doesn’t know.

    “Hyungwon’s been screaming about Minhyuk agreeing to come, too, but, um, anyway.” Hoseok's picking and tugging becomes increasingly intense by the second, feeling small and vulnerable under Kihyun’s inquisitive stare, and he’s suddenly very aware of how he hadn’t even bothered to untangle the messy tumble of hair atop his head before coming over, or how he didn’t slather a thick, shea butter flavoured layer of vaseline over his lips. “Would you want to go as my date?”

    “ _Go_ ?” Kihyun sips at his tea again, grabbing onto the nearest corner of his blanket and tugging it up closer to his chest. “don’t you mean _come_ as my date?”

    If this were any other time, like whenever Kihyun potentially corrected Hoseok’s grammar, Hoseok would mumble, “fucking literature minors,” and earn a proud laugh from Kihyun, but that’s not really the case this time. Combing a hand through his washed-down blue — almost silver, now — hair, Hoseok counters, “yeah, no, that’s the thing. It’s not at our place; it's at his mom’s lake house, down in Songpa-gu.”

    When Kihyun dips his head down to take another gulp, he ends up choking instead, bursting into a fit of coughs. Hoseok even scrambles closer to him across the two feet of couch between them to rub circles onto Kihyun’s back, soothing and repetitive. “His mom owns a _lake house_?” Kihyun finally manages to wheeze.

    Hoseok nods, reaching to carefully pluck the mug out of Kihyun‘s hands, just in case he starts sneezing or something, and placing it on the coffee table.

    “Yeah, exactly, I don’t know why he doesn’t get laid more, like, he should literally be at the top of everyone’s _list_ . He probably is, though, everyone turns to jelly when they see him, but he thinks everyone's an asshole, so he hardly ever gets with anyone,” Hoseok sputters, beginning to weave his fingers through the loosely-knit fabric of Kihyun’s throw-blanket. It’s a nervous tick, one that Kihyun had picked up on the first time Hoseok tried asking Kihyun out to one of Seungwoo’s signature frat parties, because he didn’t want to go alone. “I mean he’s filthy rich — well, his mom is. still, though, all his clothes are branded, and he looks like a Gucci model, so that’s another plus point. Maybe it’d help if _he_ was less of an asshole at times, but I guess he’s just always really tired—“

    Kihyun cuts Hoseok off again, except this time, he clutches onto his much larger hand, pressing softly and reassuringly, all the while smiling that big, perfect smile of his — it never fails to calm Hoseok’s nerves back to normal. “Hoseok, breathe. You’re rambling.”

    As much as a social butterfly Hoseok is, he possesses the greatest knack for breaking down into a fumbly, awkward mess at times, and that, too, during the most ridiculous situations, like, for example, asking Kihyun to a party. It’s a nice attribute, in Kihyun’s opinion, because it shows just how sensitive to emotion Hoseok really is.

    “Sorry,” Hoseok mumbles, resorting to fiddling around with Kihyun’s tiny, tiny fingers instead. “I, uh, you haven’t given me an answer, so now I’m freaking out a little, because I’m starting to think you’re gonna stop liking me.”

    “You’re adorable,” Kihyun says with a laugh, lips stretched wide into a big, gummy grin and eyes curved into those perfect crescents Hoseok loves so much. “Yes, I’ll go with you, you big dummy.”

   There’s a splash of newfound hope painting Hoseok’s face now, his smile big enough to rival Kihyun’s and eyes twinkling again with unbridled mirth. “Great, I’ll pick you— wait, no Hyungwon needs me to go with him earlier, but I can _receive_ you at the door. It’s really gentlemanly and charming, trust me — I’ll have you _swooning_.”

    Kihyun laughs a little harder at that — headache be damned, Hoseok makes him happy and he isn’t going to let his hangover hold him down. “Sounds perfect. Minhyuk and I can just hitch a ride with Heonny. Between you and me, I bet Min’s just going down there to hook up.”

    “With Hyungwon?” Hoseok asks knowingly, a toothy grin tugging at the ends of his lips.

    “With Hyungwon.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Are we dating? Are we fucking? 
> 
> Are we best friends? Are we something? In between that?
> 
> I wish we never fucked, and I mean that
> 
> [Childish Gambino - Heartbeat]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> saddle up. i'm sorry

**28TH MARCH**

It's relatively warmer out now, the calendar dates inching closer and closer to May. In the spirit of celebrating the dawning springtime, Kihyun has changed his hair back to its natural chocolate-brown colour, a cross between rich hot cocoa and fresh pine bark. He’d let the pink wash out to a pastel , almost white, allowed his hair grow a bit, and then he’d chopped it off, dyed the bleached bits brown to match the rest of his hair. Meanwhile, Hoseok’s hair is a mop of loose, blonde curls.

Kihyun even got a piercing, solely based on Hoseok suggestion to get a belly ring, and Kihyun had just gone along with it. The only condition had been the promise of Hoseok’s company, which the older boy happily pffered anyway, giving Kihyun’s hand reassuring, soft presses every now and then to ease his the build-up of his anxiety away.

Even though it's warm, Kihyun still keeps Hoseok’s hoodie, freshly pressed and smelling of fabric softener, slung over the armchair in his room. It’s a keepsake, just like Kihyun’s ring, which Hoseok keeps tucked away at the back of his third bureau drawer. Hoseok likes to think of their amenity exchange as a milder version of exchanging wedding rings and heart-fluttering vows. He deemed it best not to make known his perception of their exchange, because it’s more than probable for Kihyun to not think of it the same way. It’s just a meaningless gesture they both made for fun, Hoseok keeps reminding himself.

Kihyun is sitting cross-legged on the floor, right in the middle of the sitting area, every single couch adorned with several different shirts and various pairs of pants. Kihyun had pretty much emptied out his entire closet onto every piece of furniture they own to get a more open view of his closet. There are clothes literally everywhere.

“What do you even wear to a lake party?” He asks hopelessly. He retracts his gaze from all the articles spread over the couches and fixes it on Minhyuk, who’s standing in front of the stove, a wooden spoon in hand, the other end plunged into the depths of a saucepan. Kihyun assumes he’s stirring up some instant fix, because that all he knows how to cook without charring his food to a crisp. 

Getting plastered (enough to not be able to recall who you made out with in the kitchen) to commemorate nothing in particular about student life is plain tradition. What better way is there to celebrate your misery and woe than by drinking three bottles worth of cheap vodka, hooking up with the first person you see, and later waking up next to a complete stranger in your roommate’s bed?

(Except that’s just what Kihyun’s lifestyle is like. He doesn’t need a party to indulge in young-adult irresponsibility.)

For that exact reason, Hyungwon had sent invites to everyone he knew, simply waiting for the news to snowball from person to person and spread across campus like wildfire. Hoseok had already broken down the venue details to Kihyun, like how Hyungwon’s mother observed custody of a lake house, tucked away from the hustle and bustle of the city. It didn’t come as much of a surprise for Minhyuk or Kihyun. Eventually, at least. After discovering how big of an integral cog Hyungwon’s mother is in the fashion industry. 

It’s probably still a little nippy for a lake party, Kihyun supposes, but that’s fine by him. He’s not dipping a single toe in the water anyway. 

Minhyuk sighs, pushing back stray piece of hair away from his eyes. His hair is a silver cloud of fluff atop his head, pinned back hastily with three sparkly bobby-pins, which don’t seem to be helping much, really. “Kihyun, it’s just a party. Wear what you’d normally wear.”

Kihyun is up on his feet now, padding barefoot over to the kitchen and hopping on the balls of his feet with a dash of unbridled excitement. A gust of warmth and rich smell of melted cheese and warm pasta wafts into the air around him as soon as he nears Minhyuk.

Eyes pooling with glee, Kihyun starts, “You know that boatneck shirt I have? The one I wore to Seungwoo’s Christmas party last year?” He peers over Minhyuk’s shoulder to cast his eyes down onto the snack he’s nursing. It doesn’t look completely unappealing at the moment. Kihyun hopes it remains that way. He can see some pieces of macaroni starting to char around the sides of the pan.

Humming in response, Minhyuk nods his head lightly in comprehension, not daring to take his attention away from his food. “The black one with the obnoxiously large sleeves?”

“Yeah, that's the one.” Kihyun turns to lean back against the countertop right next to his roommate, accidentally bumping his head against the overhead cabinets. “I was thinking I’d throw it on over some low-riding jeans. And top it off with a thick choker and my boots. My good boots. My third date boots. My good, third date Louboutin boots.”

There’s a beat of silence. Minhyuk purses his lips in thought, thinning his eyes down to half their size, all the while stirring the macaroni in big, repetitive circles. Kihyun doubts it even needs that much vigorous stirring. “No, I don’t think so,” he says finally. Kihyun squawks. “It’s too slutty for a lake party, Ki. We're not going clubbing, it's just a party."

Kihyun lightly smacks Minhyuk’s arm with the back of his hand. “It’s a college party, Minhyuk. ‘Slutty’ is part of the description. Why would tell me to wear what I normally would if you were just going to be mean?" 

Minhyuk pulls the spoon out of the saucepan. He points it at Kihyun, a hand rested on his hip and lips pursed into a pout. “Because I meant it, but then you asked for my feedback. Even if it was indirectly, you still asked for it,” he emphasizes with a wave of his spoon, the motion sending pieces of macaroni flying off in different directions. Kihyun know's he's going to have a great time cleaning that up. “And I dished it out happily, because I’m a good friend who cares about your public image, not that there’s any point in trying to help maintain it.”

Kihyun huffs out a quick breath. It had slipped his mind how, more often than not, Minhyuk is completely and utterly useless. He tugs a washcloth off one of the many hooks drilled into the wall shelves and chucks it at Minhyuk.

“Fuck off, Min,” he calls over his shoulder, as he shuffles back into the sitting area, earning a bubbly chuckle from the older. Kihyun angrily pads over to where Buzz is curled up next to one of the coffee table pegs, reaching to scoop the bunny up into his arms. “And that’s coming from me and Buzz,” he bites, unsuccessfully kicking one of the throw-pillows scattered on the floor at Minhyuk before disappearing into his bedroom.

**.**

**2ND APRIL**

Despite Minhyuk’s advice (which the he himself didn’t follow so well either, considering he’s decked out in a pair of excessively ripped jeans and a leopard-print blouse that barely covers any skin), Kihyun goes all out for the evening.

Smokey eye makeup, thin, glittery stripes of eyeliner and everything. A collar-styled choker, the same pair of Louboutin’s (which Minhyuk has tried to snag on a couple of occasions), a loose, cropped shirt and a pair of tight jeans that resemble Minhyuk’s with all the rips littering the fabric. It's practically all black, a dress-code area he specialises in rather well, no matter how many times Minhyuk has tried to nudge him towards buying something relatively colourful.

The drive down to Seokchon came with the promise of arguing over who called shotgun first, ending up being wrangled into the car by Kihyun (Changkyun got to strap into the passenger seat eventually) and blasting a messily-strung-together mix of old-fashioned rap and bubblegum pop.

As loud and rambunctious as the ride was, Kihyun found himself craving the blur of bad music, even worse off-key vocals that belonged solely to Minhyuk, and the cool spring breeze ruffling his hair, but the longing disappears as fast as it forms when they tumble out of the car.

If Kihyun thought Jooheon had been blowing up the car speakers with his excessively diverse taste in music, then the party just about hovers on the cusp of insane. The house can easily qualify as a small mansion (Kihyun would feel intimidated if it weren’t for his pride). The music is loud enough to seep through every crevice of the house, resonating and diffusing through the walls, windows and ceiling and out into the purple evening.

Kihyun can see a cluster of people cannonballing off the deck and into the glittering, dark lake, and another group already half-submerged in the water, egging the rest on to come join the fun. Kihyun doesn't understand how they aren't freezing. The water looks a brilliant shade of violet under the sky, sparkling with the somber reflection of a billion stars, and it fills Kihyun with a feeling he can't pinpoint.

Someone calls out to Changkyun, whistles and waves, drawing attention of a few others. And that's enough to have him sprinting towards the lake, peeling

his shirt off and stepping out of his shoes to plummet into the lake.

Kihyun admits he's slightly disappointed when Hyejin open the door for them instead of Hoseok. Hoseok had promised to very charmingly receive Kihyun at the door.

“Kihyun!” She exclaims excitedly, a huge grin plastered onto her face, before she tugs a chuckling Kihyun closer by his hands. From up close, in the dim, blue light, her hair glows with streaks of neon yellow and pink. Some of the paint trickles down her forehead and along the sides of her face.

“Hey, Hyejin,” Kihyun chirps when Hyejin moves to give him a hug. “Nice paint job.”

Hyejin grins a little bigger at the compliment, all teeth and gums, as she steps away to embrace Minhyuk instead. “It's nice you guys came,” she beams, giving Jooheon a one-armed hug and Kihyun’s arm an acknowledging squeeze.

“There's pretzels and drinks in the kitchen,” she informs, pointing somewhere behind her with her thumb. “And I think they're playing strip twister or something in the living room, because someone-” She looks back over her shoulder at a grinning Byulyi, who blows Hyejin a kiss, waving sweetly at the three boys, as she trudges into the kitchen. “Couldn't keep it in her pants.”

Kihyun laughs a little and places a hand on Hyejin’s shoulder. “Thanks, Jinnie, I'll see you around,” he says, flashing her a quick smile and brushing past her.

Further inside the house, everything is a lot louder and crowded, with blaring music and hooting, chanting crowds, dancing that’s really not dancing (it’s just a blur of grinding and sloppy neck-kisses). The air is thickly laden with the scent of cheap booze, sex, a dozen different types of cologne and the heat rolling off the clusters of skimpily-dressed bodies pressed up together across the expanse of the house. The kitchen, living room, staircase, bathrooms -- every place is crowded. The entire place is lit up with strings upon strings of fairy lights, flickering in blues, and purples.

Kihyun’s skin tingles with excitement from the thrill of it all. He’s had his fair share of wild, alcohol-induced parties. He’s well-accustomed to overly-flirtatious frat boys trying to scoop him up and away to the nearest bed, seeing people engage in sloppy make-out sessions on the couch, falling victim to body shot requests that go on all night long, and getting handsy out on the porch, mid-kiss, beer bottles still in hand. But God knows before Kihyun can jump into any of that, he needs a drink.  

Luckily, with minimal difficulty,  after being deserted by Minhyuk and Jooheon, Kihyun manages to push through to the kitchen. A rather tipsy-looking Yongguk greets him with a smile, shoving a filled-to-the-brim beer cup into Kihyun's hands before being abruptly tugged away into the crowd by whom Kihyun can only assume is Daehyun. It’s not unlikely for the two to be up to some sort of mischief, like handing innocent people horrid, poisonous drinks in mistakable cups.  

Amidst staring down at his cup in utter disgust, Kihyun almost misses the melodious, chocolate-coloured  _ ‘Hi’ _ that’s thrown his way, topped off with a cherry of a smile, and a face crafted by the Gods themselves that belong solely to someone who later introduces himself as  _ ‘Mingyu’ _ .

Kihyun ends up forgetting all about the liquid repugnance clasped within in his hands for a wonderful, fleeting moment. Especially when Mingyu, in all his gorgeous, dreamy glory, reaches to tuck a few strands of Kihyun’s hair behind his ear. Just as Mingyu glances down at Kihyun’s cup, and offers to grab him a beer, Kihyun’s attention is drawn to the commotion that suddenly erupts from around the spiralling staircase, all drunken, slurred shouts and terribly loud fits of laughter.  

He sees a figure scurrying hurriedly down the stairs, and it takes Kihyun a while to realise it’s Hoseok who’s stumbling his way down. He's desperately trying to weave his way through the clusters of people pooled up in the living room, as he tosses a quick (and what seems to be getaway) laugh over his shoulder at the group of absolutely wrecked guests he’s just escaped from. Kihyun isn't entirely surprised.

Grabbing hold of a decent drink be damned, Kihyun presses a nothing but flirty, meaningless goodbye-kiss to Mingyu’s cheek, flashing him a smile and saying something along the lines of  _ ‘I’ll see you later _ ’. He abandons his beer cup on a nearby countertop qnd slips his way through the crowd, nearly tripping over someone’s feet as he stumbles past the couch to make a beeline for Hoseok.

Hoseok jumps a little when Kihyun calls out to him and proceeds to tug Hoseok away into the nearest unoccupied corner he finds, throwing him right against a wall.

“Hyejin let us in. You said you’d receive me at the door, ” Kihyun teases, gently knocking his knuckles against Hoseok’s cheek, a tiny grin tugging at his lips. Kihyun knows well and good Hoseok had probably been swept away by and grappled at for attention. He just likes to see Hoseok get a little worked up.

Shifting his weight from foot to foot -- left, right, left, right again -- Hoseok fiddles with the hem of his  shirt. Kihyun almost drools over how good Hoseok looks in it. Chest muscles straining  _ so  _ nicely against the fabric, the black material standing out perfectly against his papery-white skin.

Hoseok sighs, nervously rubbing the the back of his neck. “Yeah, sorry about that, I--”

He stops mid-sentence to gape at Kihyun. At his god-lovely belly ring (the same one Hoseok has his fun with whenever they’re behind closed doors), his perfect tufts of soft, brown hair, just  _ begging  _ to be pulled and tugged at, his eyes, sharp and piercing, and his irresistible, red lips. Kihyun never ceases to make Hoseok’s head spin, never ceases to sweep Hoseok off his feet. And just like that, he has Hoseok completely dazzled as of now.

After a good thirty seconds worth of silence, Kihyun tilts his head to the side, letting pieces of his swoon-worthy hair fall over his forehead in messy tangles.

“What’s wrong? You haven’t said anything for almost a minute. Are you okay?.” Kihyun looks himself up and down promptly, and then pats over his face, eyes slightly wide. “Is there something on my shirt? My face? There’s whipped cream in my hair, isn’t there? I’m going to kill Yongguk.”

Hoseok shakes his head in big, frantic motions, only adding to Kihyun’s curiosity even more. “No, there’s no cream in your hair or on your face, you--” He stumbles over his words, and all he wants is to kick himself right now, because, Hoseok isn’t a fumbly, blushy mess. But Kihyun somehow always ends up stealing away his reputation of being chirpy and suave. “You look really good. Like really, _really_ good.” 

Kihyun laughs. It’s soft, dulcet. Precious, like a butterfly’s wingbeat. Perfect and smooth like honey. Hoseok wants to commit the sound to memory, bury it deep within his box of  _ ‘The many sweet things about Yoo Kihyun’. _

“Good enough to have you wrecking your shirt?” Kihyun adds, playful as ever, gesturing down to Hoseok’s hands, which are still tugging mercilessly at the hem of his shirt with fierce determination to warp the fabric out of shape.

“Right,” Hoseok mutters defeatedly under his breath, unhanding his shirt to instead gesture towards the kitchen, blinking a few times before saying, “Do you me to get you something to drink? I know I could use a drink.”  

Kihyun doesn’t even have to think twice before sighing. “God, yes. Fucking get me a drink.”

He lets Hoseok  guide him, Hoseok's hand placed gently on the small of his back, through the heaps of people milling around the living room and into the warm, alcohol-smelling embrace of the kitchen. He even allows Hoseok to help him up onto the countertop while the older of the two digs around in the freezer.

When Mingyu brushes by Kihyun again in the kitchen and presses a lingering, soft kiss to Kihyun's cheek, a reciprocal of what Kihyun had done earlier, Kihyun smiles nice and big at him.

It makes Hoseok's heart twist, because that's how Kihyun's smiles at  _ him _ . It hurts and pains and stings and burns, but Hoseok doesn't say anything about it.

.

The damp wood creaks under Hoseok’s feet as he trudges closer to Kihyun’s small form, clad in black fabrics and perched on the edge of the dock, feet dangling over the side, just barely making contact with the lake below.

When he’s close enough to be able to touch the younger boy, Hoseok crouches down next to him, vacating his hands of the two ice-cold beers he’d pulled out of the freezer earlier and placing them next to Kihyun.

“How come you’re sitting out here?” Hoseok teases, fondly eyeing the way Kihyun’s hands are gripping onto the edge of the wooden dock as he swings his legs to and fro. He reaches to gently run his fingers over the side of Kihyun's neck, right under the leather of his choker. It's an accessory Hoseok adores on Kihyun very much. He smiles at the way Kihyun croons under the touch. 

"The party is way over there where no one can see you’re naked and fornicating, because you’re half immersed in water,” Hoseok adds, gesturing to the same crowd of people Kihyun had taken notice of when he first arrived.

Subsequent to their visit to the kitchen, Hoseok had picked Kihyun up off the countertop, settled him back down on the ground, and told him to go pick out a spot for them. Later, he’d stepped outside, two beer bottles in hand, to find Kihyun seated at edge of the dock.

Kihyun laughs dryly, as if he’s desperately trying to hide the fact that he’s not really amused. “As fun as that sounds, I, uh--” He brings a hand up to brush a few strands of hair away from his eyes. 

Sensing the hint of hesitation in Kihyun's voice, Hoseok trails his fingers to the nape of Kihyun's neck instead, tracing slow, random shapes onto the soft skin there.

“I can’t swim,” Kihyun divulges with a regretful sigh.

In almost a heartbeat, adoring smiles and loving giggles be damned, Hoseok holds his hand out to Kihyun, palm unfurled and open. He even gives his fingers a quick wiggle for Kihyun to take the hint faster.

“Take my hand,” Hoseok urges finally, only to receive a puzzled look from Kihyun.

Nonplussed, Kihyun asks, “What, why?”

“Just trust me, okay,” Hoseok insists, at which Kihyun eventually gives in and grabs ahold of Hoseok's hand.

He’s immediately hoisted up onto his feet and Hoseok tugs him towards the shore, giving Kihyun’s hand soft, reassuring presses every now and then as he says, “You know all those times you slept with me? And how you told me about the time you grabbed that cop's ass, because you thought it was Changkyun, but it turned out to be an actual cop, and then you said,  _ ‘Don’t even ask me how I mixed those two up. Changkyun has some really weird kinks’ _ ?”

Kihyun frowns. “Is there a point to this?” 

He mimics action when Hoseok toes off his off his shoes, tossing them aside, and then grips at Hoseok's hand when Hoseok nudges Kihyun towards the shoreline. Kihyun is overly aware of how the sand becomes softer and more moist beneath them as they walk, so he fumbles around for Hoseok’s other hand, which the latter offers almost instantly.

"Allof that needed trust, right?” Hoseok tacks on, grinning amusedly at the way Kihyun frantically nods, the motion sending his hair flying in different directions. “So this is just like that. Just don’t scream. Someone’s gonna think I’m trying to grope you.”

Kihyun scoffs. “Because that’s something you don’t see at every college party.”

Normally, Kihyun exhibits relentless, bold behaviour. He is willing to try just about anything. His courage is one of the many things Hoseok adores about him. But right now, even his snippy remarks and quick wit can’t paint over the way his face is absolutely stricken with fear. He resembles a frightened cat, perched up on a high branch several feet off the ground, looking for a warm pair of arms to bound into, especially when Hoseok finally manages to walk him into knee-deep water.

“Hoseok, I’m going to fall,” Kihyun yelps, pawing at the taut material of Hoseok’s shirt for _something_ to grab onto when he stumbles over a rather big rock. “And then I'll sue your pants off, because I hate water and I can’t swim, but you somehow managed to drag me knee-deep into a fucking lake,” Kihyun rambles on. He glares up at Hoseok through his pretty eyelashes. “God damn you. You and your stupid boy charm.”

Hoseok smiles nonetheless. He would never dream of letting go of Kihyun’s hand. Not when Kihyun is quivering in his hold, trying to grip more and more of him between his tiny fingers, because Hoseok is practically his safe haven at the moment. He would never wish to let go of Kihyun anyway.

Kihyun whimpers quietly and Hoseok chuckles fondly in response, his laugh a low rumble in his chest. Kihyun smacks his arm and growls. “Shut up, Hoseok. It’s not fucking funny.”

Hoseok gives Kihyun an amused smile and squeezes his hand. “Okay. Here, look.”

Hoseok begins to turn at a slow, steady pace, until Kihyun is facing the shore and Hoseok’s back is turned towards the vast expanse of the lake. “Turn around,” he says softly, next to Kihyun's ear.

He holds on tight as Kihyun turns to face him, his lips pressed into a thin, fine line and eyebrows arched upwards. Tiny creases form on Kihyun’s forehead, and all Hoseok wants is to kiss each and every one of them away.  

As Hoseok guides the younger further in, just until they’re both thigh-deep, his hand finds its way down to rest loosely on Kihyun’s waist, the other still gripping tenderly at Kihyun’s hand, fingers laced and palms pressed flush.

“I’m not going to let you fall,” Hoseok reassures, his voice velvety smooth and low, a quiet whisper in Kihyun’s ear, as he takes another few steps into the depth of the lake. “Is this okay?”

Kihyun’s eyes are wide, big, round and lovely. Warm in the moonlight. And with his teeth biting down nervously on his bottom lip, all Hoseok wants to do is cradle his face and press small, quick kisses all over. His eyes, forehead, nose, the apples of his cheeks, along his jaw, before meeting Kihyun's lips over and over again in slow, teasing kisses.

“Yes,” Kihyun says unsurely, holding onto Hoseok so tight that he’s pressed flush against his wide chest. He glances down at the water pooling around their legs and feels a crashing wave of dizziness sweep over him. So Kihyun swallows, his Adam’s Apple bobbing in his throat, and moves even closer to Hoseok, nuzzling his face into the base of Hoseok's neck. “No, it’s not okay. I think I’m gonna pass the fuck out, Hoseok. Get me out of here.”

When Hoseok eventually gives up, cards his fingers soothingly through Kihyun’s luscious brown locks, saying it’s okay and that they can leave, he lives up to his word. He holds Kihyun's hands till they make it to shore and Kihyun later flashes him a big, toothy smile when they're collecting their shoes.   

It’s the precious, little moments like this, that fill Hoseok’s chest with enough sweet warmth to rival a crackling furnace in the middle of winter. It’s times like this, that make Hoseok really wonder if Kihyun has become the fabric of life for him. Make him wonder if Kihyun is this profound being, an embodiment of everything wonderful in the world, that’s morphed Hoseok into some sort of lovesick puppy chasing his own tail. But Hoseok doesn’t mind, because he gets to be with Kihyun and gets to love him.

But there's always this sick feeling bubbling in the pit of his stomach, reminding him day after day that it's never going to last. Kihyun will disappear from his life just as fast as he stepped into it.

.

Hoseok crawls up into the undulating warmth of the guest bed he’d taken the opportunity to occupy earlier. He settles down on the soft, plush comforter next to Kihyun after he’s replaced his wet jeans with a tighter pair that Kihyun assumes belongs to Hyungwon. Kihyun's jeans have been left to dry on the bureau chair and Kihyun sits on the bed, dressed only in his shirt and a pair of briefs. Which is fine by Kihyun, and it’s  _ definitely  _ fine by Hoseok.

After their tumultuous adventure out by the lake, Hoseok had showcased all qualities of a gentleman by tugging Kihyun upstairs and into the bedroom farthest down the hall, tucking them both away from the reality of everything else. Hoseok wouldn’t want Kihyun traipsing around the house in soaked jeans, but it wouldn’t be completely wrong to admit that isn’t the only motive behind his measures.

Hoseok needed some quiet time. A few, serene moments alone with Kihyun. Without the loud, thumping music and several guys coming up to kiss Kihyun’s cheek, or even playful venturing into lakes. Hoseok's mind is churning itself up and he just wants them to talk.

With everything that has happened tonight -- from the way Hoseok’s heart stuttered painfully in his chest when Mingyu had kissed Kihyun so casually, to how he felt a burst of affection swallow him whole when Kihyun had clung onto him down by the lake -- and after all the time they’d spent together, golden and aglow with the light of a billion stars, Hoseok needs to spill his heart out before it drives him around the bend.

All he needs is to gather all his emotions, wrap them up in a pretty, silk ribbon and gift them to Kihyun. Only so Hoseok can stop his head from spinning in big, blissful circles around the mere thought of him. Sweet, adorable, lovable and gorgeous Kihyun. Kihyun, who stepped so valiantly into Hoseok’s life, planted his heels into the ground and just refused to leave. Kihyun who makes his heart flutter with every kiss, every time they touch, fuck, laugh, talk. Kihyun, with whom Hoseok is so unbelievably, truly, deeply in love.

Everything Hoseok feels -- adoration, fondness, affection, and  _ love  _ \-- whisks together the perfect recipe for disaster. He knows this. But it all melts away when he's sitting here with Kihyun right within arms reach, where Hoseok can feel his warmth, and count down the spaces between his breaths. With Kihyun looking so perfect, like some ethereal being folded up against the pillows, Hoseok doesn’t even think twice before starting, “Can I ask you something?”

Kihyun’s head snaps up to meet Hoseok’s eyes with his own worried ones.

“Oh, God, no,” Kihyun huffs out warily, pushing in a quick chuckle at the end, and all Hoseok can wonder is whether Kihyun has caught onto his little secret. There's a window behind them, easily wedged open when pulled at. It would come in handy if Hoseok needs to nosedive two stories down to the ground.

Hoseok is running through every possible outcome in his head when Kihyun finally continues, “Is this going to be like one of those things where you ask me something hypothetical, but really stupid, and I say _ ‘That’s not possible’ _ and then you try to prove it to me?”

“What? No,” Hoseok answers with a quick shake of his head, repositioning himself so that’s he’s sitting propped up against the pillows, too, his side pressed against Kihyun’s. “I mean, it  _ is  _ me asking for advice, but it’s not hypothetical or stupid this time,” he clarifies, keeping his eyes fixed on Kihyun, as the latter nods approvingly.

“Okay, fair enough. What’s wrong?”

Now that’s the hard part. Hoseok doesn’t know what’s wrong, because, really, there’s nothing wrong (well, except for the daunting fact that he’s fucking  _ in love _ with Yoo Kihyun).

“There’s not. That isn't. I mean--” Hoseok stops to formulate and string together words into a proper sentence. He clears his throat before he continues, “Say there’s this person you have. They’re really so perfect for you. You feel right when you’re with them, you connect, you have intimacy, you feel _good_. You might as well just be soulmates.”

“Quite the poet, aren’t you?” Kihyun says with a giggle, a soft and delicate sound bubbling from his perfect lips, eyes fixed on his hands, which are clasped loosely together in his lap.

“Thanks. I took literature in high school,” Hoseok responds, only to be on the receiving end of a nudge Kihyun inflicts on the side of his ribs. “But what if they don’t feel the same way?” Hoseok says after a pause, his face straightening out into something far more serious and earnest. “What if they’re right there. Your perfect person,  _ the one _ , but they don’t want you like that?”

There’s a short beat of silence, in which Hoseok takes respite in the soft sounds of fabric rustling under them every time either one of them moves. He knows Kihyun is thinking good and hard, because he’s doing that thing where he chews constantly at his bottom lip and scrunches up his eyes.

“Well,” Kihyun begins finally after a few moments of hush that had shrouded them. “I think we both know I’m not the best at all this soulmate, true love stuff. But I think the first step would be to find out where they are. Whether they share the same feelings as you do,” he suggests, tilting his head to the side to look at Hoseok meaningfully.

“And you just  _ ask  _ them that?” Hoseok questions, adding in a couple of hand gestures to emphasise just how helpless he really feels. “Like.  _ Hey _ , _ so I’m kind of in love with you. Do you love me? _ ”

With a shrug of his shoulders, lower lip sticking out a bit so very cutely and eyebrows arched upwards in what seems to be thought-processing, Kihyun says, “Yeah, sure. I mean. You could insist they love you instead and scare them off. Like, _You're in love with me. I_ know _you're in love with me’_. Also, when you get to doing it, maybe make it a little less desperate and clingy.”

Dejected, Hoseok rolls his eyes. “Thanks.”

Laughing softly, a fond chuckle, if nothing else, Kihyun hops off the bed, padding over to where his jeans are spread out over a plush ottoman, pushed right next to a fancy-looking bureau. “I’m just teasing,” he says through a big, toothy grin, all the while tugging his pants on, one leg at a time. He hops for a few seconds on each foot as he does so. “Ask them. Talk to them. If they’re your friend, they’ll be sweet and supportive about it.”

Hoseok is suddenly very aware of the light sheen of sweat coating his forehead and palms, and he can feel just how hard his heart is pounding against his ribcage, rattling his insides with every thump. “Okay, then,” he starts, inhaling a deep, shaky breath just to soothe the heaviness building up in his chest. “Do you feel the same way about me?”

That’s when Kihyun stops. He freezes. His fingers still over the buttons of his jeans and he just stands there, only half facing away from Hoseok. His mouth is slightly parted around soft, erratic breaths, his eyes fixed to stare at nothing in particular.

It’s so quiet. Nothing like those comfortable, easy silences they have they have. The air is thick and heavy. Even a pin drop would sound terribly loud. Hoseok hopes to God Kihyun can’t hear how loudly his heart is pounding in his chest.

After a few prolonged seconds of unpleasant, piercing silence, Kihyun’s shoulders roll forward into a drop, his eyes fluttering shut, heavy. He looks like he's about to curl up into a ball and start crying and for a brief moment, Hoseok considers brushing the whole thing off as a joke, just so he can go up to Kihyun, cradle his face in his hands and kiss him all over.

“Hoseok,” Kihyun sighs. It comes out so hushed and breathy, Hoseok wouldn’t have been able to hear it if everything around them wasn’t so painfully quiet.

“No. That’s not an answer, Ki,” Hoseok presses, desperately trying to keep the heartbreak out of his voice. His fingers find their way down to grip onto the sumptuous material of the comforter, tugging and pulling at the fabric therapeutically. “My name does not count as an answer.” 

“Hoseok, can we not?” The younger pleads, combing a shaky, tentative hand through his tumble of hair and sighing yet again. Hoseok can see his fingers trembling as they sweep through his hair. “I can’t. Not right now.  _ Please _ .”

Tears begin to prickle Hoseok’s eyes, but he just blinks them away, and implores, “Why can’t you just say  _ yes _ ? Why does it have to be so difficult with you?” 

“It’s not as simple as you think. It’s complicated,” Kihyun reasons, his voice shaky and breaking at almost every syllable. If it weren't for how thickly his voice is laden with repressed sobs, Hoseok would have wondered if Kihyun might as well have shattered his heart, like a piece of glass, under the clunky heel of his boot.

A single tear finally rolls down Hoseok’s flushed cheek, leaving behind a thin trail of dampness that only invites more teardrops to tumble down his face.

“Kihyun, we spent an amazing, perfect month together.” Hoseok rubs his cheeks with curled fingers in a hopeless attempt to brush away his tears. But they just keep coming. “The talking, the way we just click _ ,  _ the instant bonding, even the sex. It’s all so great with you. Don’t you dare lie and say you don't feel the same way.”

“Fine. It was great, okay. But that’s it. It was just sex and talking, that's all it was.” Kihyun bursts, fingers still fiddling nervously with wayward strands of his hair, his eyes slightly red and glossy with unshed tears. Hoseok swears he can see tiny droplets webbed into Kihyun’s damp eyelashes. If he looks close enough, Hoseok can even see faint traces of previously spilled tears staining the sides of Kihyun’s cheeks and he represses the urge to pad over and kiss them away.

Another batch of tears threatens to tumble down Hoseok’s face. Instead of being spiked to life by heartache, they’re spurred on by frustration. All Hoseok wants is to bound over to Kihyun, slam him up against the nearest wall and press himself so close to him that Kihyun has no choice but to look straight into Hoseok’s eyes. There's a burning desire in the pit of Hoseok’s stomach for Kihyun to look at him, tears, flushed cheeks and all. Hoseok wants Kihyun to say whatever he has to directly to his face instead of turning away from him, like this.

He doesn’t move. He stays put, cemented to the mattress, hands gripping even tighter at the bedding under him, and settles for growling. “Am I just another one of those names you cross off a list when you’ve had your share of fun with them? Is that all I am to you? A fucking target? An oat for you to sow?”

Kihyun shakes his head, biting down hard on his bottom lip. Hard enough to draw blood. Kihyun’s voice, usually so smooth, sweet and delicate, is heavy with the urge to break down and sob into his hands when he says, “I never said that, Hoseok. Don’t put your words in my mouth.”

“But that’s what it sounds like, though,” Hoseok points out with an irked fist landing on the mattress next to him. “That’s what it feels like, Kihyun. I know you’re not into this relationship stuff, but that doesn’t mean it’s okay for my feelings to be put on the line.” 

When all he receives in response is a string of staggered breaths and sniffles, Hoseok presses further, “So you're just gonna write us off as some type of casual hook-up and throw us away after this?” 

“I’m sorry, Hoseok,” Kihyun says quietly after a pause, a stifled sob threatening to spill from his lips. Hoseok pretends to not hear the way Kihyun's voice cracks a little when the name leaves his lips.  

They stay, like that, for a while. Hoseok remains on the bed, fistfuls of comforter scrunched up within his hands, and Kihyun stands by the bureau, facing away from Hoseok.

With a scoff, Hoseok finally scrambles off the bed without another word, swiftly moving across the room to the door. He jerks it open and lets it fall shut behind him with a loud thud. Kihyun’s heart drops to his feet.

.

**5TH APRIL**

He won’t admit it to save his life (from Minhyuk mostly), but Kihyun’s been avoiding Hoseok like the plague. Text messages, face-to-face encounters, phone calls, and all.  

**I** t’s been three days since he last saw Hoseok. There was that one time he’d seen him hunched over his designated study table in the library, wrapped up in peaceful slumber amidst the busy hum of students milling about, flipping through textbooks and typing papers on their crappy laptops. A piece of Kihyun’s heart broke at just how worn out Hoseok had looked then. Messy tangles of blonde hair pinned back with chip-clips, a huge, threadbare shirt thrown over his shoulders (the same one he refused to crawl out of whenever he felt low), and dark crescents under his eyes.

ll Kihyun had done then was push Hoseok’s laptop lid down, pick up a large cup of his favourite coffee from a nearby coffeeshop and drape his own cardigan over Hoseok’s sleeping form. Kihyun hoped Hoseok could tell whose it is by the way it smelled.

Since Hyungwon’s party, Kihyun hasn't been able to eat, sleep, read or even type up any of his essays for class. Being the great friend he is, Minhyuk usually tries to spoonfeed bites of cereal into Kihyun’s mouth in the morning and some ramen in the evening. Minhyuk makes sure Kihyun stays hydrated and goes to bed at a reasonable hour.

Minhyuk had kept from pushing Kihyun to talk. He knows Kihyun doesn't like talking unless he really needs to. But that's until Changkyun swings by their apartment, saying he’s headed Downtown for one of Junhui’s club parties, and Kihyun only furrows deeper into the warmth of his blanket, digging further into the couch cushions in protest to Minhyuk’s declaration. (“Oh, my God. Jun. Jun’s alive. Kihyun, we have to go,” he’d exclaimed, bouncing giddily on his toes).

After that, Minhyuk really had no choice but to ask, because Yoo Kihyun does not pass up the opportunity to go clubbing. Or the opportunity to see Junhui.

“Ki, are you okay?” Minhyuk inquires, cautious and worried. He stops messing around with his hair and moves from where he’s standing by the door, bounding over to settle down onto the coffee table in front of Kihyun. Changkyun follows soon after, hopping up onto the armrest of the couch Kihyun’s seated on, eyes pooling with heartfelt worry.

Kihyun chews lazily at the pretzel in his mouth, fingers dangling over the side of the bowl in his lap. He pops a few more into his mouth, tapping away at his phone screen with his other hand, and gives Minhyuk a small, forced smile. He reciprocates the same action towards Changkyun. “Yeah, of course. I’m fine. Why?”

“Well, firstly, you’re wearing two different shoes, hyung. Why are you wearing shoes at home anyway? That's a little gross,” Changkyun pipes out, eyeing Kihyun’s shoe-clad feet, which are peeking out from under the blanket that’s draped over his legs. The left shoe is a black Puma sneaker and the other a blue high-top converse.

“And secondly,” Minhyuk starts, leaning over his knees to lightly jab Kihyun’s shoulder. “You don’t want to go club party. You. Yoo Kihyun says he doesn’t wanna go to a club party. Plus, it’s Jun’s party. You love Jun, Kihyun. So that’s even more concerning.”

“I’m just tired,” Kihyun says with a shrug of his shoulders, a lazy finger tracing the rim of the bowl before he pushes it off his off lap and onto one of the end-tables.

Minhyuk lets a sigh escape from his lips, eyebrows tugged close together as he nudges Kihyun’s ankle with his foot. “Is this about Hoseok?” He asks softly. Kihyun feels his heart drop down to his stomach.

No matter how much Kihyun tries to hide it, Minhyuk and Changkyun both notice how he tenses a little at the mention of Hoseok’s name. So Changkyun scoops up all his adorable, dongsaeng charm and rubs soothing patterns onto Kihyun’s arm.

He says, “Hyung, did something happen between you two at Hyungwon’s? I saw Hoseok-hyung coming back downstairs without you, and I didn’t see him again the whole night after that.”

That’s really all it takes for Kihyun to morph into a perpetual mess of groaning and whining. A few, carefully structured words from Changkyun, and the entirety of Kihyun’s resolve crumbles into fine dust. Minhyuk is, to say the least, slightly very jealous.

Kihyun collapses onto the rest of the couch, which, now that he notices, is littered with discarded sticky notes and breadcrumbs and there’s an impossibly hideous Christmas sweater slung over the over armrest. Kihyun’s too sleep-deprived and hypoglycaemic at the moment to figure out whether it’s his or Minhyuk’s.

More than half-buried in inches of blanket-fluff, Kihyun grumbles, “Oh, God.” His words slur and slide in his mouth lazily, as he burrows his face into the worn cotton fabric of a select throw-pillow. “Oh, dear God. Is it really that obvious?”  

The couch dips under Minhyuk’s weight when he plops down next to Kihyun’s curled-up form. He doesn’t try to help Kihyun unfurl or even try to comfort him. “Kihyun, it’s not that hard to tell when you’re acting like you lost a puppy.”

“And I guess everyone kind of figured about the thing at Hyungwon’s, because it wasn’t all that difficult to figure out. Even Jooheon, who was totally wrecked, by the way, pieced the puzzle together,” Changkyun adds promptly, reaching over to massage Kihyun’s blanket-covered calves, reassuringly pressing down with the pads of his fingers. Kihyun relaxes under the touch, but he guesses it’s mostly because Hoseok always used to massage his shoulders, back and legs at night when they'd just be lying in bed together, naked under the sheets.

There’s a moment of silence before Kihyun speaks again, nose still pressed deep into the throw-pillow his face is still buried in. “He said he’s in love with me,” he says, his voice muffled and staticy through the fabric of the pillow, and he doesn’t need to see Minhyuk and Changkyun’s faces to visualise just how nonplussed they look.

After yet another beat of silence, this one more unsettling than the last, Changkyun is the one who breaks through the hush. “He really said that? I mean, it’s no surprise, considering it’s Hoseok-hyung _ ,  _ but I was so sure he knew about y--”

“About me and how I move from person to person without giving two fucks just because no one else matters?” Kihyun quips almost instantly, rolling over on his side so he’s pressed into the couch, back-flat.

“I never said that, hyung.”

Groaning into his palms, which he had planted onto his face exasperatedly, Kihyun huffs, “I know, I'm sorry. I just don’t know what to do. I  _ never _ know what to do.”

“No, you know what to do,” Minhyuk corrects, gently prying Kihyun’s hands off his face so he can peer deeply, meaningfully into his eyes, and Kihyun resists the urge to groan again, because he knows exactly what Minhyuk’s talking about. He wants Kihyun to go talk to Hoseok. “You just don’t want to do it.”

Kihyun whines, eyes scrunched and eyebrows pulled into a frown, and Changkyun resists the urge to break out into a huge grin, because Kihyun is adorable, absolutely and completely adorable, but now is hardly the right time to start gushing over his cuteness. “ _ Minmoong _ ,” he coos.

Minhyuk scoffs nonchalantly, because Kihyun only ever calls Minhyuk that when he’s either really insanely hammered or acting cute and irresistible to wiggle himself out of doing something.

“Don’t  _ ‘Minmoong’ _ me, Ki,” Minhyuk warns, as he picks up a crumpled sticky note from the sea of paper scattered over the couch, unwrapping it carefully. He reads it over and makes a face before tossing it away again. “This is between you and Hoseok. It isn't something you can just avoid, because he’s not one of your usual hookups, is he?”

Changkyun only watches intently as Kihyun parts his lips to articulate some form of protest, only to be hushed by Minhyuk when the latter pegs on, “I know how close you two have gotten over the past month. I also know you care about him very much, which is exactly why you can’t call it quits here.”

This time, Kihyun doesn’t throw a fit, groan or whine out in retaliation, because deep down, no matter how much he tries to keep his better judgement sealed up and locked away, he knows Minhyuk is more than right. As a result, Kihyun just brings his hands up to his hair, fastening his fingers in soft, brown tufts of hair.

It’s Changkyun’s turn to pull Kihyun’s hands away this time, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth in disapproval. “Hyung, don’t do that. You’ll end up pulling all your hair out one day, I swear,” he says in objection, and Kihyun, for the first time in three days lets out a soft, but all the while hearty, laugh, his eyes arching into those pretty half-moons Hoseok adores so much.

It hurts to think about it

.

**6TH APRIL**

After a day’s worth of careful consideration and contemplation, Kihyun decides to play along with the element of surprise that’s promised to come with visiting Hoseok at work at that cute, little café on campus. Kihyun knows it's probably not the nicest move, because it  _ is  _ Hoseok's place of work, and that he could have dropped by Hoseok’s apartment, or even called to ask if they could grab a cup of coffee and a piece of pie to converse over. But in his head, no matter how Kihyun tries to direct the conversation, it always ends in complete disaster, so he ends up deciding this is just fine. It’s not much of a headache for Kihyun anyway. He considers himself a walking disaster nevertheless.

The café is a blend of quiet music, soft chatter, sweet smells of grilled chicken and what Kihyun identifies as hollandaise sauce, and about a myriad different types of tea leaves. Usually, Kihyun would never cease to tuck himself away in the warm, homey embrace of it, equipped with his reading glasses, laptop and his treasured, worn copy of ‘Breakfast at Tiffany’s’. But given the reason he’s here, Kihyun isn't all too thrilled about pushing in past the café doors today.

When he finally makes it up to the counter, after preparing himself with the aid of a few deep breaths, Kihyun parks himself right next to the counter up front. He eyes the woven basket that sits next to the cashier. It’s an adorably petite piece of twine and ribbon, perched up on the countertop and filled up with tiny, foil-wrapped chocolates. Kihyun always used to sneak a few pieces into his hoodie whenever he swung by to come see Hoseok at work. Kihyun smiles bitterly at the memoru. It all that seems like a sweet, intangible dream now.

He spots Hoseok milling around the espresso machine, fruitlessly wiping the metal parts down to a mirror-like shine with a rag. There’s a few moments of silence before Hoseok finally takes in Kihyun’s presence, his eyes filling up with enough sparkle to rival galaxies upon galaxies of stars, and Kihyun can’t help but let his heart stutter ruefully at the sight.

“Kihyun,” he breathes, sounding a little incredulous. Kihyun doesn't blame him. Hoseok hasn’t seen or heard from Kihyun in four days. In a heartbeat, Hoseok drops the cloth in hand down onto the coffee machine, traipsing over to the countertop to stand right across from Kihyun. “Hi. Where have you been? I haven't seen you in days.”

Kihyun just flashes him a quick, fleeting smile. It doesn’t reach his eyes the way it usually does and Hoseok notices it. Kihyun drops his hands onto the marble surface of the countertop, clasping them together to nervously fidget with his fingers.

“I’ve just been kind of busy, I’m sorry I didn’t text you or call,” Kihyun answers simply. He wishes it were that simple. “But I really had to talk to you.”

“Yeah?” Hoseok asks, his voice soft and so, so gentle with all the care he’s putting into his words. Kihyun feels his heart burn at just how sweetly Hoseok treats him. How sweetly Hoseok _still_ treats him after the heartache Kihyun had caused him back at Hyungwon’s. It hurts so bad all Kihyun wants to do is burst into tears and yell at Hoseok to smash his head in or scream at him, because he should hate Kihyun with a burningpassion. “I kind of had something to say to you too. But I didn’t see you after that day, so.”

Still fiddling around with his fingers, Kihyun keeps his eyes fixed on his joined hands, refusing to even look at Hoseok, because he knows that would just break _ him _ . “You should probably go first then,” he suggests promptly, feeling a little weak and wobbly in the knees from just how softly Hoseok is looking at him, his stare still full of so much fondness that it hurts.

“Okay, uh. I just need you to know I’m sorry for how I acted that day,” Hoseok starts, propping his elbows up onto the counter to lean a little closer to Kihyun. He reaches to place a light, careful hand over Kihyun’s fidgety ones, pressing down on his fingers and palm comfortingly. “You deserved to be heard, but I didn’t really give you a chance to say much. I didn’t listen when all you did was listen to me. And I’m sorry.”

Kihyun shuffles his feet nervously, looking uncertain, fragile and delicate in the huge sweatshirt thrown over his shoulders. He keeps his eyes glued to his hands (and now Hoseok’s hand, because it’s still there, clutching onto Kihyun’s smaller ones so lovingly, and it makes Kihyun’s something burn deep in him with acidic, sad pangs). Kihyun looks so tiny, drowning in the fabric of his shirt. All Hoseok wants to do is wrap him up in blankets and shield him from everything bad in the world.

“I think it’s best if we forget about the other night,” Kihyun says after a pause, his voice soft, quiet and small. If it weren’t for his choice of words, Hoseok would want to hop over the few inches of marble isle separating them, and bundle Kihyun up in his arm. Protective, warm and giving off a feeling of home.

But Hoseok still doesn’t spare a moment before bringing his other hand up to Kihyun’s face. His eyes gleam with a certain determination. Tucking a wayward strand of hair behind Kihyun's ear, Hoseok waits a moment. “That’s not going to change the fact that I love you,” he says finally.

“Don’t say that. You’re not in love with me,” Kihyun reprimands quickly with a hurried, swift shake of his head, like Hoseok's words burn. The movement sends locks of his sweet-smelling hair flopping around his forehead. They come to rest messily over his eyes. Hoseok represses the urge to brush every single one of them away so he can cradle Kihyun’s face in his hands and kiss his forehead.

“What are you so afraid of, Ki?” 

Swallowing hard, Kihyun lets out a shaky, stuttered breath. “I’m not afraid, I just--” He bites down hard on his bottom lip till it’s white and ready to bruise. “I can’t be with you.”

That’s when Hoseok pulls his hands away from Kihyun. Kihyun can just about imagine the look of dejection on his face, mixed in with a little bit of aggravation, because instead of sentimentality, all Hoseok feels is anger spiking in him.

“Because I’m not good enough for you?” Hoseok says it rough and sharp, wanting his every move, statement and breath to pierce Kihyun just the way he got a Kihyun-sized hole punched into his heart.

“No, Hoseok. That’s not it. That was never it,” Kihyun insists, a bilious feeling beginning to pool in the pit of his stomach. He continues to mess around with his fingers, now that Hoseok’s hand isn't there to keep him from doing so anymore.

“You admitted that this is the best you’ve ever had. That I am the best you’ve ever had,” Hoseok presses, jaw set and teeth clenched to keep himself from slamming his fist down onto the counter. He wishes he could fill up the void Kihyun left in him four days prior.  

Hoseok wants to patch up his torn up heart by screaming, crying, yelling. But at the end of it all, he still feels his heart swell with all with love when he sees how Kihyun has completely closed himself up. Kept the real Yoo Kihyun tucked behind layers and layers of meaningless hookups and unhealthy coping mechanisms. All he is now is a mess of soft whispers, quivering eyes and fidgety hands in front of Hoseok.

“Ki,” he begins, the softness returning to his voice, because this is Kihyun. His Kihyun. Kihyun, who owns just about every inch of him. Kihyun, who carved his name onto Hoseok’s heart so deep that it’s probably never going to heal. And Hoseok would die before hurting him. “We’re so good together. We--“

“That doesn't necessarily mean that I love you back, though. Does it?” Kihyun bites. His stare is piercing, harsh and it freezes Hoseok in place.  

All Hoseok can do is let Kihyun’s words sink in. They sting and bore deeper into the bottomless in his chest. He thinks it probably would’ve hurt less if Kihyun smashed a glass over his head. He wants to curl up into a ball and cry his heart out until his body is completely drained and worn out from the sobbing. Instead, he just blinks a few times, swiping his tongue over his bottom lip until Kihyun speaks.

“I-- I’m sorry,” Kihyun concedes, hiding a frown behind his hand. “I shouldn’t have snapped, like that--”

Hoseok holds a hand up to cut Kihyun short, a wry smile plastered onto his face.

“No, that’s okay.” He rubs tiredly at his forehead before giving Kihyun a look, far off and distant, as if Kihyun isn’t the same boy he’s been seeing for the past month, and it makes Kihyun’s heart sink. “You should probably go. I, uh. I need to get back to work.”

Kihyun opens his mouth to say something, but Hoseok beats him to it.

“I’ll see you around,” Hoseok says over his shoulder before reaching behind himself to undo his apron. He tosses it onto a nearby stool before disappearing behind a door.

.

A cup -- Hoseok’s big, yellow one that’s chipped at the rim --  is hurled at the wall right when Hyungwon steps foot inside the apartment. He gasps and clutches fruitlessly at the frayed strap of his messenger bag that's slung over his shoulder.

“The cup didn’t break your heart, Hoseok,” he chimes, closing the door behind his melt and toeing his plimsolls off by the entrance. They hardly qualify as appropriate shoes anymore with how their fabric is pulled taut to the max and how worn-down their soles are now. Hoseok keeps pestering Hyungwon to throw them out, because they’re so pathetic-looking. Hyungwon never listens.

Judging by how he's dressed, cropped tights and a loose fitted shirt, Hoseok can tell Hyungwon has just gotten back from his yoga class. Hyungwon has always pushed Hoseok to attend at least one session with him, saying it's _therapeutic_ and _relaxing_. He claims it will help now especially since Hoseok spends most of his time rolling around helplessly in his bed.

There’s dry laughter, light and breathy, before Hoseok exhales. “No,” he agrees, backing up against the fridge to slowly slide down to the floor. He sighs as soon as he makes contact with the cold ground. “No, the cup didn’t do shit. Kihyun did.”

Seeming indifferent and completely uninvolved is Hyungwon’s trademark quality, but Hoseok doesn’t need it written down to know Hyungwon’s care and love for him runs so very deep. The younger boy shows it through tiny, miniscule gestures. Leaving notes on the fridge, telling Hoseok to eat his vegetables when he leaves early for class. Covering Hoseok over with a blanket when he falls asleep on the couch after reading. Buying Hoseok’s favourite ramen for him whenever he passes by the convenience store. Towel-drying his hair for him when he doesn’t do it himself, because he doesn’t want Hoseok getting sick.

And just like that, Hyungwon doesn’t need to think twice before shrugging his bag off, not caring much for the way it tumbles to the floor, and bounding over to Hoseok in five big strides, plopping down to fold his long, denim-clad legs under him. “Hoseok, you knew what you were getting into from the start. You said you were okay with it. With not having something serious.”

Tugging at his sleeve, picking at the hemming and bunching the material up in his hands repeatedly, Hoseok sighs again. It’s hard keeping himself pulled together under Hyungwon’s fixed stare, soft and full of warm concern.

“I know. But that was before I realised how perfect he is. He's everything I want,” Hoseok mumbles, eyes downcast as he speaks, not being able to dig around in himself for the amount of courage he needs to look Hyungwon straight in the eyes.

“This is so stupid.” Hoseok laughs, dark and dead. “It’s so stupid, I--” He chokes on a sob, and bites down on his bottom lip to stop it from quivering so much.

It takes Hyungwon less than five seconds to dig into his hoodie pocket and fish out a slightly worn piece of tissue. It’s useless, honestly, but Hoseok feels a certain warmth swell through him at the gesture when Hyungwon scoots closer, reaching to gently dab Hoseok’s cheeks dry. 

"Don’t say that. Your feelings are never stupid. Ever,” the younger boy reprimands. His deft and tender fingers are soft with care, as he wipes some of the dampness away from Hoseok’s thick lashes, too, and Hoseok feels a smile tug at his lips. “Fine, yeah. You fall hard and easy and I want to smack you for it sometimes.” Hyungwon pauses to smile fondly when he hears Hoseok chuckle quietly. “But don’t say it’s stupid, because it’s not. There’s nothing wrong with loving someone, Hoseok.”

“But it’s pretty stupid when you fall in love with someone who plays the field and has no intentions of starting up a relationship.” Hoseok breathes out another wry laugh, sniffling uncontrollably, as he resumes warping his sleeves out of shape. “Like you said. I knew from the start and yet…”

“It still makes me angry,” he continues, swiping his tongue over his plump, pink lips. Hyungwon can see his eyes misting over with a new batch of unshed tears and he casts a hopeless glance at the torn Kleenex gripped between his fingers. It’s patched and damp with tear stain. It's even more useless than it was before Hyungwon used it to wipe Hoseok’s face dry. “I don’t know why, but I thought maybe, just maybe, he'd change after having such a great time together. I thought maybe I’d get to keep this for longer. Keep  _ him _ for longer.”

“People don’t change so easily, Hoseok.”

Hoseok nods slowly, raising a hand to tuck curled pieces of his blonde hair away from his forehead, but it only coaxes more tears to escape his eyes, rolling down his face in hot, wet streaks. This time, Hyungwon reaches for him, gentle and comforting, as he cups both his flushed cheeks, cradling Hoseok’s puffy face in his hands.

“Hoseok,” Hyungwon calls softly. the only response he gets is a few blinks and a sniffle or two.

“Hoseok, look at me,” Hyungwon says again, keeping his voice small and mellow. It easily lulls Hoseok into letting his eyes flicker up just enough to meet Hyungwon’s big, brown ones. There’s this soothing, comforting underlying tone Hyungwon’s words carry. It makes Hoseok feel like he’s wrapped up in soft blankets, safe and cared for.

The piece of Kleenex is long forgotten when Hyungwon flashes Hoseok an acknowledging smile, pries one hand off Hoseok’s cheek, tugs his sleeve over his palm and, with utmost care, rubs each and every trace of wetness away from Hoseok’s face for the second time now. Hoseok lets his eyes flutter shut upon the soft contact, damp eyelashes resting prettily over his pink-dusted cheeks.

Hyungwon sighs. “I know you’re hurting. You've been hurting before and you’re gonna keep hurting for a while, but you know how you said everything you wanted to tell Kihyun?”

Hoseok nods, letting his eyes flit from Hyungwon’s eyes, to the wall behind him and then his own hands, which still fumble with his sleeves from time to time.

Humming, the sound rumbling low in his chest, Hyungwon uses his index to lightly brush some of Hoseok’s stray curls away from his face. “But did you hear him out? About why he said what he did and why he can’t give you a chance? Because I feel like there's more to this than what he's letting on.”

“Kihyunnie doesn’t talk much,” Hoseok confesses. It comes out more as a whisper than anything else, because Hyungwon is so very close, he could probably understand Hoseok if he were to wordlessly mouth sentences. “About himself and his past and all.”

None of it is a lie. Kihyun never enjoyed divulging information about his past. Hoseok picked up on that one night when they were sitting in a clandestine corner of the library, folded up against a thick bookshelf, legs tangled and whatnot, with individual books in hand.  They exchanged occasional questions, comments on each of their books and sometimes irrelevant statements, and amidst it all, Hoseok had asked, “Is your ‘no-love’ thing an in-built instinct or is it because of some high-school trauma?”

It was meant as an innocent joke. Hoseok was even grinning big, wide and all gummy until he saw the way Kihyun’s face looked completely drained of colour. Hoseok took the hint pretty well, making a mental note to himself: Don’t mention high school to Kihyun.

Retracting his hands, Hyungwon places them, clasped together loosely, in his lap. Hoseok promptly misses the lovely warmth they invited when they were cupping his face.

“Hoseok,” the younger boy starts, placing a reassuring hand on Hoseok’s thigh instead, rubbing repetitive circles into the fabric of his sweatpants with the pad of his thumb. “I think in this case, where you’re pretty much fully involved, too, it’s okay to ask why. I know Kihyun isn’t all for the icky love stuff, but he’s a good guy, and I also know he’d never purposefully hurt someone he cares about. He would never hurt you, Hoseok.”

“I don’t know.”

Hyungwon gently squeezes Hoseok's thigh. “I saw him the other day,” he says carefully. Hoseok almost instantly looks up at him, his big, brown eyes darting all over Hyungwon's face.

When Hoseok doesn't say anything, only opens his mouth once or twice, trying desperately to form some type of coherent response, Hyungwon lets out a soft sigh and continues, “I talked to him, too. He doesn't look good, Hoseok. He looks tired and  _ sad _ and I can tell this is wearing him out, too.”

“It’s not exactly fair to him either if you just turn away and hate him for this, Hoseok. He’s human too and before anything, you’re his friend. So of course he cares and  _ of course  _ he’s hurting, too,” Hyungwon presses further, taking full notice of how Hoseok’s face falls, eyes pooling with so much sadness and guilt that Hyungwon thinks they might just burst. All Hyungwon can imagine is waking up to find Hoseok sobbing at the mere thought of Kihyun sitting curled up in bed, buried in blankets upon blankets, refusing to leave the comfort of his bedroom to eat, drink water, talk or do anything that’s  _ Kihyun _ .

In this moment, with Hoseok chewing precariously at his bottom lip, Hyungwon can see just how much Hoseok has let himself fall into Kihyun.

“There's two sides to every story,” Hyungwon pegs on. After a stretch of silence, where Hoseok’s bottom lip started wobbling again between his teeth and he’s hiccuping instead, occasionally bringing his sleeve-covered hand to dab some tears away, Hyungwon gives Hoseok’s thigh another gentle, reassuring and slightly encouraging squeeze. “Kihyun deserves to be heard, too.”      

  
  



	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how to talk to you 
> 
> I just know I found myself getting lost with you 
> 
> Lately you just make me work too hard for you
> 
> Got me on flights overseas,
> 
> And I still can't get across to you
> 
> [Drake - Too Good]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jun makes his grand appearance as kihyuns other fuckbuddy :'> i love this boy, thank u

**6TH APRIL**

“Heonny,” Kihyun mumbles through the phone. His fingers, the ones of his other, vacant hand, pick meditatively at the tiny frayed rip in his socks, right over his toe. He can hear people chattering away in the background, glossed over with blaring music, the faint sound of someone yelling _‘body shots!’_ , and a very distinct thud that's bloodcurdling enough to qualify as a vase being toppled over. Or someone cannonballing off the top of the stairs. House parties, especially one’s at Jooheon’s house, don’t leave much room for sane possibilities. Typically, anything is possible at their house. 

Jooheon, adorably prompt as ever, chuckles back a quick, “Yes, hyung?”

With a small cough, Kihyun tacks on, “You think you can come get me?"

And Jooheon knows not to ask any more questions, just go pick Kihyun up and bring him over.

That’s how, about twenty minutes later, Kihyun ends up at Jooheon’s, an arm slung loosely around the said boy’s shoulders, his mouth wide open around a big, hearty laugh, his tawny hair a tousled mess atop his head, and eighth beer in hand. Jooheon plays his part as a sweet, considerate host by struggling to hold Kihyun up. It's precautionary, so that Kihyun doesn’t end up tumbling to the floor. 

"I feel like,” Jiho starts, pointing his index at Kihyun, the rest of his fingers wrapped tightly around the neck of his beer bottle. Yoonho had asked who, out of all of them, is the best drunk, and it was Jiho’s turn to slur out a semblance of an answer. “Kihyun's a fun drunk. He's funny.”

Youngjae nods frantically, his hair flying all over his face. There are still bright traces of glow paint everywhere. In his hair, on his neck, face and hands. Kihyun doesn't know how much Hyejin had slathered all over him ( _h_ _im_ especially), but she sure knows how to work her magic. “Oh, my God, _yes_ ," he says. “New Year's Eve, 2016.”

Kihyun’s face pales, and Jooheon and Jiho try desperately to bite back their laughter.

“Wait,” Daehyun sputters, almost choking on his drink. It's something blue in a big, red beer cup, and Kihyun wonders if it's close to a Moscow Mule or just liquor with blue food colouring.  “What happened on New Year's, 2016?”

“Long story short, because it's _long_ with context,” Jiho starts, smiling tightly. “Taemin sets something on fire, lots of screaming ensues, and then there's a cop at our door. Kihyun, drunk off his ass, goes out even though Jackson’s out there dealing with the guy. He looks the cop up and down, bites his lip and says ‘ _M_ _m, I’d tap that twice’._ ”

It’s Kihyun's turn to choke, and he guffaws. “I did not say that.”

Jooheon hums, wrapping his arm tighter around Kihyun's midsection, because he's beginning to stumble over his feet a little. “Hyung, you also challenged him to a rap battle. You told him he'll _have_ to let you tap his ass if you win, and started _singing_."

Yoonho looks like he's about to start crying from how much he's laughing when he looks to Kihyun, grinning wide as ever, and asks, “Hyung, you can _sing_?”

Youngjae snorts against the side of his cup, and Kihyun can see the paint beginning to stain the plastic container under his fingertips. “Not when he's drunk,” he quips, and the other three, except for Kihyun, erupt into fits of laughter.

Just when Kihyun opens his mouth to protest, a warm, soft hand wraps around his wrist, the one that’s not hooked around Jooheon, careful and just a slight bit demanding (for attention, that is). It’s familiar and strikes Kihyun with a form of recognition, but the excitement dawns upon him in heavy waves only when he turns a little to look behind himself.

And then Kihyun’s already squealing with joy, an even bigger smile plastered onto his face, as he turns around completely, wiggling out of Jooheon’s grip.

“Jun!” He beams excitedly, practically screaming when he finally hurls himself at the said boy, and Kihyun is so lucky Junhui had been quick to wrap him up in his arms before he stumbled to the ground. Walking around skilfully is a trait that’s never associated with a even a tipsy Kihyun.

Junhui exchanges a meaningful look with Jooheon, flashing a reassuring smile at his housemate, just to say, _‘Its okay, I've got him’._  It’s enough to have Jooheon nodding in acknowledgment before going back to shoving Jiho playfully with his shoulder when the older boy threatens to flick a swirl of whipped cream onto his face.

There’s a huge, sloppily-contained grin on Kihyun’s face, and the apples of his cheeks, the tip of his nose and ears are dusted with cherry-pink pigment.

“How many have you had, Ki?” Junhui asks, his lips curled into a fond smile, as he soothingly presses the pads of his thumbs into Kihyun’s sides, right over the strip of bare skin above his hips, rubbing softly in the form of tiny, fond circles.

Kihyun had forgotten just how perfect Junhui is with his striking eyes that envelop him in so much warmth, and perfect face, all sharp angles and strong lines. Kihyun had forgotten _just_ _how_ _good_ Junhui always is to him, and just how much he loves being with him.

“Three,” Kihyun answers quickly. “Wait, no-- Four,” he corrects, his lips now pulled into a confused frown. “No, it’s--” He hiccups, jabbing a finger at the corner of Junhui’s lips, which are still curved into an amused grin, to pull them up into an even bigger smile. “It’s eight, not three or four.”

“Jesus, Kihyun,” Junhui huffs out, laughing softly with an armful of messy-drunk Kihyun grabbing at his shirt, as if he’d die without having Junhui pressed so close to him. (Kihyun tends to get clingier when he drinks.) Junhui keeps his grip tight around Kihyun’s middle, reaching with his other hand to pry the beer bottle away from Kihyun.

“I think that’s enough booze for one night, don’t you?” A smug, playful grin tugs at his Junhui's lips when Kihyun lets out a whine.

“Where have you been, though?” Kihyun asks, his lips protruding in a tiny pout, as he tugs roughly at the soft fabric of Junhui’s shirt. “I haven’t seen you in, like, _forever_.”

“Where have _you_ been?” Junhui reiterates, leaning in closer to Kihyun to knock their foreheads together. He gently nudges Kihyun towards one of the kitchen countertops, still wrapped snugly around the brunette, so he can abandon the beer bottle on the nearest island. “Minhyuk came alone the other day. You weren’t _there_ , Ki. And then Minhyuk tells me you're upset, and then _I’m_ upset, because you didn't come talk to me about it.”

Something flashes in Kihyun’s eyes when he looks deep into Junhui’s. They turn visibly darker, twinkling with some type of mischief. He swipes his tongue over his bottom lip, only to bite down onto it later. It's one of those things he does that sends any spectator’s hearty into a frenzy.

“But I’m here now,” Kihyun whispers, trailing a finger up to Jun’s neck to trace lazy, feather-touch patterns onto his collarbones and the side of his neck, which, thanks to his wildly unbuttoned shirt, are on full display.

They’ve been over the same routine before countless times. After parties, during parties, after breakups and sometimes without any reason than to just have fun. Which is why Kihyun always somehow finds himself crawling back to Junhui, and Junhui doesn’t even need to ask before swooping down to capture Kihyun’s plump, red and all-round irresistible lips within his own.

They kiss without abandon, hot and heavy, a clash of teeth and tongues. Junhui’s arms unwind themselves from Kihyun’s waist in favour of cradling his gorgeous face in his hands, Kihyun gripping tightly onto his shoulders, as Junhui gently backs them up into a corner and out of direct sight, so he can push Kihyun up against a wall without any restraint. When Junhui draws away from Kihyun’s mouth, tugging at his bottom lip before moving down to kiss along his jawline, mouthing away hungrily at Kihyun’s neck with sloppy, wet kisses, Kihyun allows himself to tangle his fingers in Junhui’s messy, frizzed up hair, pulling at his tresses and raking his fingernails over his scalp.

A burst of euphoria sizzles through his veins when Junhui’s hands, hot and rough enough to leave bruises on Kihyun’s pale skin, grip onto his denim-clad thighs, urging Kihyun to hop up a little. Kihyun does so promptly, wrapping his legs around Junhui’s hips as Junhui bites feverishly into the skin of Kihyun’s neck.

Kihyun’s lips, slightly parted and pressed up against Junhui’s ear, whisper soft, hushed words of licentious praise, as Junhui continues to bite and kiss Kihyun’s neck, mouthing at the supple skin just enough to leave a trail of marks. Kihyun beams at the prospect of admiring them in the mirror when he changes clothes or takes a shower.

It’s good with Junhui. It’s easy and comforting when they fall into the sheets together, a messy tangle of limbs and hot, wet kisses. He hovers over Kihyun with coquettish intent to ravish and devour every inch of him, and Kihyun feels his skin tingle with excitement. Every thought embedded deep in Kihyun’s mind melts away when Junhui bites and kisses the soft skin of Kihyun’s neck again. Everything ceases to exist, and the world stops spinning for a few wonderful moments when Junhui takes Kihyun’s breath away, slowly, carefully, with smooth, undulating rolls of his body.

When they’re together, curled up under the covers after rigourous rounds of blissful sex, Kihyun somehow manages to have all his worries swept away, as if Junhui’s the sea. Gentle, serene waves coaxing Kihyun to tuck himself away from every last trouble clouding his mind.

But right when his eyes are fluttering shut with heavy amounts of sleep, after Junhui presses an open-mouthed kiss to Kihyun’s teeth more than his lips, mumbling soft praises into his messy hair, the last thing Kihyun thinks about is Hoseok.

Beautiful, gorgeous Hoseok in all his pure, sweet, blonde-haired glory.

Hoseok, who makes Kihyun’s heart pound in his throat every time he smiles. Because when Hoseok smiles, he smiles with every part of his body, and he smiles for Kihyun, _because_ of Kihyun, and Kihyun can just about feel the clouds part for him every time he does that.

Hoseok, who makes Kihyun _feel._  He actually makes Kihyun _feel._  Makes him feel beautiful, lovely, wanted, _loved._  All things that Kihyun has never felt before, and especially not like this.

He sees Hoseok flicker behind half-closed eyelids, red-eyed and teary, sobbing, without any signs of stopping, into the soft fabric of his favourite hoodie. It’s clutched in his hands with hopeless desperation, and he’s hugging it to his chest, curling up around it, like a child holding onto his favourite teddy bear.

He’s sobbing into the same hoodie he had given to Kihyun, and as the image fades away, Kihyun feels like Hoseok took his heart with him.

.

**7TH APRIL**

When Kihyun wakes up the next morning, only half-buried under the covers. His head pounds with the inexplicable rage of a typhoon, all thanks to the lavish amount of alcohol he‘d indulged in. Junhui’s missing from his side, the sheets crumpled and cold where he had fallen asleep after the fuzzy events of last night. 

It takes a good stretch and a couple of yawns for Kihyun to muster enough energy to pad his hand around over the night-table in an attempt to grab hold of his phone. He hisses a little at the level of brightness it shines onto his face upon unlocking it. It's too bright for sometime after noon-- it’s too bright for any time, really. And it burns his eyes, one fucking cone at a time.

He's got over ten missed calls from Minhyuk, and an angry voicemail. It’s no surprise, really. Kihyun had picked up and left without a single word last night, and Minhyuk probably thought he ran off to Incheon to see his sister in the middle of the night.

Further down, there are two texts from Junhui.

**_jun <3 _ **

_had to run out for class sry ily :()_

_but jooheon can make you pancakes so itsg if u leave before eating >:( _ 

Much to Kihyun’s surprise, he does traipse down the stairs, one of Junhui’s overly sized shirts thrown over his shoulders and a pair of his sweatpants tugged snuggly around his slim waist. He finds Jooheon in the kitchen, expertly whisking together some eggs, sugar and flour in a bowl. Other than Junhui, who might as well just be an experienced chef, Jooheon is practically the only one in the house who can manage kitchen affairs without setting off any fire alarms. Jackson, Changkyun and Jiho are the combined epitome of uselessness as housemates, and Kihyun doesn't understand how all five of them manage to get _anything_ done.

“Hey, Heonny,” Kihyun says with a yawn, soft and cute.

He earns from the younger boy a prompt, "Hi, Hyung." 

Kihyun shuffles over to dig an opened Snapple out from the depths of the fridge. He’s a bundle of white cotton and messy, tangled hair when he plops down onto one of the island chairs, taking a few good sips of his drink before chucking the bottle cap at Jooheon’s back.

Jooheon hums in response, just to let Kihyun know he has his attention, as he carefully greases the insides of a pan with a chunk of butter, and pours a tiny bit of pancake batter into it. Kihyun asks, “Did Jun ask you make me breakfast?”

“Yeah,” Jooheon hums, using a small skillet to flip the pancake over onto its uncooked, raw, liquid-ey side as soon as it starts bubbling. There's a slight smile in his voice, Kihyun knows Jooheon well enough to be able to tell. “I didn’t even know you stayed over until he told me this morning. It's nice, though. I haven't made you breakfast for quite a while now.”

Jooheon doesn't bother to ask about how Kihyun's night with Junhui was, or something like, _“I tought you two gave this little thing up,”._  Jooheon knows better than that. Especially after Kihyun had exploded when Minhyuk had once merely brushed upon the topic with a,  _“So what's this thing you and Jun have exactly?”_ It was months ago (kind of seems like years ago now), but it had _not_ been a pretty show of Kihyun's bad side, and Minhyuk had spent the whole day trailing after him, like a sad, needy puppy.

Fiddling with the rim of his bottle of tea, Kihyun watches intently as Jooheon tosses the pancake onto a plate, and starts all over again, pouring in some more batter to make another one. He takes another big gulp of his beverage, and sets it back down onto the countertop, watching it practically melt into the marble. It’s in God’s good grace that it’s not wood. If it was, Kihyun knows the bottle would leave an ugly ring behind in its stead later.

“Minhyuk-hyung called, by the way. Like, fifty times,” Jooheon chirps after a slightly prolonged period of silence, as he sets a plate down in front of Kihyun, occupied by a stack of four, mini pancakes, garnished to perfection with a demure drizzle of maple syrup.

The younger boy offers Kihyun a smile, reaching to brush away tangles of hair that are falling into his eyes. “He said he got back from his date with Hyungwon at, like, twelve, and you weren't home, so he flipped out. I told him you’re here and not lying dead in a gutter somewhere, but I think that just made him plain mad. Didn’t you tell him you were coming?”

Kihyun picks up a fork from a nearby cutlery-holder to pull off a piece of fluffy pancake, shoving it into his mouth, all the while wholeheartedly trying to ignore the sense of déjà vu that comes along with the whole situation. Waking up in someone’s home the morning after to be fed pancakes. He tries to push away the heart-wrenching thought that waking up in Hoseok’s home, wearing Hoseok’s shirt, eating the pancakes Hoseok made for him was all so much nicer. Hoseok, in comparison to anything else, is always so much nicer.  

It felt real and it felt good with him, which is why Kihyun doesn’t want to let himself think about it. There’s big, hollow hole in his heart, and he knows better than to pick at it. Instead, Kihyun busies himself with chewing on another forkful of pancake. “He's just dramatic," he says.

"He's  _worried_ ," Jooheon amends.

Kihyun shakes his head. "I don't have to tell him stuff all he time. I just kind of just stormed out last night. No voicemail, no note, call or message. I just wanted to-- No, I _needed_ to get away. I had to leave. I'm a grown man. I deserve that much. There's a reason I don't live with my mother anymore." 

"You can’t storm out of your own house, hyung.”

"Well, I did. And I can. Quite the badass, huh?” Kihyun grins, and Jooheon chuckles, shaking his head as he reaches for Kihyun again, but to wipe off a drop of syrup and a few pancake crumbs from the edge of Kihyun’s lips. “And it ended up being pretty fun, actually. Just what I needed to blow off some steam, and to just _stop_ _thinking_. Jun’s _so_ good at getting me to stop thinking. I Ithinkit's a gift.”

By the time Kihyun has devoured more than half the stack, after he’s forked a few bites of breakfast into Jooheon’s open mouth and sipped every last drop of his lemonade, Jooheon’s looking right at him, calculating, speculating.

If it weren’t for how deep-set his eyes are at the time, Kihyun wouldn’t feel so small and vulnerable, as if he’s being examined under a microscope for minuscule detail.

“What?” Kihyun mumbles around a mouthful of pancake. He feels the need to curl into himself and make himself smaller, less accessible, because he hates the idea of being transparent or easy to read, like an open book, welcoming and accessible. It bugs and prods, deeper and deeper. Like it's digging a hole, and Kihyun wishes he could feel nothing at times. 

“I never thought I’d say this,” Jooheon starts, leaning down onto the countertop on his elbows, which are conveniently folded under him to support the added weight. “Especially after you’ve spent the night with Jun, but. You look sad, hyung.”

Kihyun almost chokes on the food in his mouth, but he manages, with little ease, to swallow it down without feeling the need to puke. “Sad?” He repeats incredulously. Jooheon’s always been the more quiet, attentive one, but Kihyun always hoped none of his intuition applied to him.

Jooheon nods. pieces of his tucked-back hair fall messily over his forehead. “Sad and tired, yeah, but not ‘sleep-deprived’ tired. It’s more like you’re emotionally exhausted,” he says again, and Kihyun lowers his gaze to the pancake stack, which looks like it’s littered with a dozen giant teeth marks from having a fork shoved through at different angles.

“Jun mentioned it, too, before leaving. He said you seemed distant, and he’s so sweetly stupid that he ended up thinking he isn't good enough for you anymore,” Jooheon presses, smiling softly when Kihyun giggles under his breath, using his fork to poke at the pancakes (or whatever’s left of them). “He wanted to ask you if you were okay, but you fell asleep. And he didn’t have the heart to wake you up when he had to leave. So he passed the responsibility to make sure you're okay on to me.”

There’s a few moments of silence. The softness of Jooheon’s stare doesn’t falter, and similarly, Kihyun doesn’t stop mutilating the leftover pancakes, until he whispers, quiet and unsure, “I’m not okay.” He swallows hard, his adam’s apple bobbing visibly in his throat. “Is that _really_ so bad?”

"Fuck, no,” Jooheon says sharply, because it _is_ okay. It’s fucking okay. And Jooheon wishes he could grab a sharpie and scribble that onto the front of Kihyun’s shirt in big, bold block-letters.

“It’s okay, it’s _so_ okay. There’s nothing wrong with being sad, hyung, just as long as you talk to someone about it,” Jooheon finishes with a much softer undertone. He brings a hand up to place over Kihyun’s forearm, pressing down gently onto his soft, moon-kissed skin with the pads of his fingers.

“People keep saying that,” Kihyun says, wry laughter bubbling from his lips, as he swipes his tongue over them.

“Because it’s true. Talking helps. It's like you're taking a load off your shoulders and sharing it with someone else." 

Kihyun only blinks a few times, still refusing to look up at Jooheon. During moments, like this, where Kihyun feels every wound of his being ripped open raw, begging, just _begging_ , to be salted and abused even further, he can never bring himself to look directly at someone. Because one look into his eyes, and it’ll all be out in the open, and that's what scares him the most.

They’ll all be able to see just how torn apart at the seams he really is, and Kihyun isn’t going to give himself up that easy.

Sighing, Jooheon grabs Kihyun’s plate and shoves it in the sink, letting the piece of crockery fill up with water, before grabbing a set of keys off the top of the microwave.

“Come on, I’ll drop you home on the way to work,” he announces, padding over to the living room and parking himself next to an ever-accumulating pile of shoes. He picks out a worn pair of converse, not bothering to unlace them as he tugs them on. “Minhyuk-hyung is going to be _pissed_."

.

**11TH** **APRIL**

It’s a four days later, subsequent to the café fiasco and Jooheon’s party. Four more days of brooding, sure, but phase two brooding instead of phase one, which had been primarily based on sitting curled up in bed all day with Buzz, only getting out of bed for class or work, eating pretty much nothing more than anything, and watching ‘Romeo and Juliet’ over and over with a tub of black-cherry ice cream.

Phase two has a slightly different definition for Kihyun. Its underlying factor is just forgetting about everything whizzing around in his head, but with the help of some basic careless behavioural traits. Drowning every last sorrow in of a few sips of a good, stiff drink, which ultimately builds up until he’s downed at least two bottles of whiskey, is one of them, and hooking up with Junhui almost everyday for the 'feel good’ element is another one.

    It’s been four days of watching Kihyun leave sometime during the evening, only to either return later that night, smelling like cheap booze, cigarettes, boys’ cologne (and it’s never his own, because Kihyun doesn’t wear cologne) and sex. Either that or he doesn’t come back at all, and instead shows up in the morning when Minhyuk is standing over the stove, expertly scrambling an omelette with a disapproving frown on his face.

    It’s been three days of watching Kihyun not care at all — of watching him give literally zero fucks (except for people, that is, whom he’s ready to give fucks to) — and Minhyuk can’t take it anymore.

    “Can’t you ever talk to me without threatening to ruin one of my favourite sweaters?” Kihyun hisses through clenched teeth, angrily balled fists at his sides and eyebrows tugged close together in a frown. Despite how seething he looks, ready to pounce at Minhyuk with unfurled hands to strangle him to death, his heart is beating so hard against his sternum, he wouldn’t be surprised if he found ribcage-shaped bruises on his skin.

    Dressed in tight, dark jeans, an even tighter black shirt and a thin denim jacket, topped off with his signature glittery eyeliner and a dark lip — it’s not so hard to tell Kihyun’s going out again. When Kihyun wants to make a point, he _dresses_ like it, and Minhyuk had taken complete advantage of that, considering he’s standing across from Kihyun on the other side of the kitchen table, Kihyun’s favourite, second date sweater (the really fluffy, soft, powder-pink one) in hand, fingers threatening to mercilessly pull its knitting apart.

    “No, because you don’t listen otherwise — you never listen,” Minhyuk spits as if it’s the most obvious answer in the world, his face pulled into a frown that’s unnerving enough to rival Kihyun’s. He keeps Kihyun’s sweater clutched tight in his hand, even though he and Kihyun both know he would probably ( _probably)_ never wreck the article of clothing _just_ because he’s supposedly a little mad at Kihyun. It’s just to make a statement, and to catch Kihyun’s full attention. “Just like you didn’t listen back in first year when you hooked up with Jisoo. I told you he’s got the wrong idea about whatever you guys had — that he's got the wrong idea about _you_ — but you didn’t listen. You broke his heart, Kihyun, and he was _devastated_ after that.”

   “That was just _once_ , though. It was a mistake, Minhyuk,” Kihyun proclaims, his voice dripping venom as he rounds the table to close in on Minhyuk, but the latter only moves further away. “Where is all this coming from? Now of all times, too,” he presses, teeth clenched behind a scowl.

    Minhyuk’s chest heaves with every slow, timid breath he takes. the sweater‘s presence is forgotten at his fingertips. “Kihyun,” he starts, his voice a low, soothing hum, his eyes fluttering closed for a split, wingbeat of a second. “I really think your coping mechanisms aren’t the best.”

    “My coping mechanisms?” Kihyun repeats incredulously. A swirl of several different emotions is spiralling through his veins, and his heart is pounding hard in his chest. Kihyun really feels like he might just give up, crumple to the ground and pull Minhyuk closer to sob into his shoulder. “What exactly am I trying to cope with?”

    “I don’t know, you’re obviously afraid of emotional attachment and feelings, or whatever — you’re shit scared of commitment. So you're doing all this other stupid shit just so you don't have to think about Hoseok, about he he feels and how _you_ feel.” Minhyuk’s eyes, trained completely on Kihyun, are wide, and Kihyun wonders if they could rival the size of the moon.

    Kihyun clenches his fists tighter, pressing his fingernails so hard into his palms that he’s sure they’ll leave tiny, red crescents under all the pressure.

    “There’s a difference between emotionally investing in relationships and emotionally attaching yourself to people. Just because I don’t do relationships doesn’t mean I don’t care about anyone.” He knows it’s not the best argument — it may as well be the world’s _thinnest_ argument — but with the way he’s feeling right now (enraged, cornered, and sad, too), all he wants is _something_ to hold onto.

    Minhyuk angrily pushes his scanty fringe away from his face, and scoffs. “Why is that your excuse for everything?” he spits, like the words are poison in his mouth, and Kihyun represses the urge to plant his hands onto the table and scratch away at the paint. “Fine, I know you’re not into relationships, but that can’t be your answer to everything whenever things get messy.”

    The words sink in, carving themselves into the front lobe of Kihyun’s brain with slow-burning realisation. He can feel a knot building up in his throat, brought on by the prickle of tears behind his eyelids, frustration, and (though he’d never admit it to himself) the sickening feeling of hovering on the cusp of what he assumes is a milder version of _love_.

    Kihyun presses his teeth together harder, blinking fast and chewing at his bottom lip, as he fixes his gaze on splatter of dried oil-paint staining the floorboards. Taking Kihyun's silence as a sign, Minhyuk tacks on, “and you say you care, but it really doesn’t seem like you do, no matter how many times I tell you to stop and just think about what you’re doing. _Ever_ ,” he says, his statement accompanied by quiet, wry laughter.

    Swallowing hard, trying to gulp down the uneasiness building up at the back of his throat, Kihyun manages a meek reply, “that’s not true.” It comes out small, breathy and unsure, just like every word he’d spewed back at the café. Kihyun hates it with a burning passion — hates feeling small and fragile under the pressure of what feels like the whole world.

    “Yes, it is. I know you like the back of my hand, so don’t try and fool me or yourself, Kihyun.”

    The knot in his throat tightens, and Kihyun’s palms are throbbing violently. They’re probably so flushed by now, glistening with a thin sheen of sweat, bruised and cut into. There’s a burst of metallic warmth in his mouth, and Kihyun promptly lets his bleeding lip go from in-between his teeth.

    “You probably don’t even realise it, but you’re doing the same with Hoseok now,” Minhyuk reminds, rubbing the soft, fluffy wool of Kihyun’s sweater between his fingers. It’s an old habit, one that Kihyun’s always witnessed Minhyuk showcasing when he feels the need to calm himself to a state of peaceful serenity. “You’re doing the same thing you did to jisoo.”

    Kihyun wills himself to look up into Minhyuk’s big, brown eyes that are full of some serious version of concern. despite taking a couple of deep, soothing breaths, Kihyun’s voice breaks a little when he asks, “which is what exactly?”

    Minhyuk doesn’t spare a second before answering, his voice multiplying dangerously in amplitude. “You hook up, you fool around, you have fun — that's all great and all, but there's always trouble with this thing you do. One of you is always bound to get in deeper than the other. It's happened once before, and it's happening again, but you're not trying to help yourself fix it.”

    Kihyun can feel his heart beating in his throat, throbbing and pulsating with the rage of big ocean tides.

    “You can't just avoid stuff and pretend it's going to go away on its own,” Minhyuk says easily. “You're only hurting him more, like this.”

    “Minhyuk, put my sweater back,” Kihyun instructs, his voice groggy with unshed tears and repressed sobs, but he still sounds determined as ever. Stubbornness has always been one of Kihyun’s dominant traits. He reaches for his set of house keys, pocketing them roughly and beginning to bound his way over to the door. “I’m leaving.”

    He reaches for his coat — the one that’s hung up on the coat rack next to the door — but just as Kihyun wraps his clammy palm around the doorknob, Minhyuk throws his sweater to the floor, stomping up behind.

    “You’re doing it again!” Minhyuk exclaims from behind Kihyun.

    When Kihyun halts his movements, hand hovering right over the piece of rotund brass, shaky and precarious, Minhyuk takes a few ragged, sharp breaths before continuing. “Can’t you see you walk away every time something gets serious?”

    For the entirety of their heated argument, Kihyun had only looked at Minhyuk with anger and bottled-up frustration, but he’s looking at him now, after spinning promptly to face Minhyuk, cheeks stained with hot tears and eyes full of so much hurt that Minhyuk feels a piece of him break.

    “That’s because I fuck everything up when things get serious!” Kihyun yells back before letting his resolve crumble completely, losing himself to a string of sniffles and sobs.

    “Ki—“

    Wiping away furiously at his face, rubbing his eyes with balled fists so hard that his knuckles leave tiny, red marks, Kihyun asks, “do you remember Hyunwoo?”

    His voice comes out a little muffled and muted with all the sobbing and hiccuping, but Minhyuk heard him loud and clear, and the air stiffens around them both in a heartbeat. So, very carefully, as if Kihyun’s a piece of fragile porcelain, not wanting to break Kihyun any more than how broken he already is, Minhyuk says, “yeah, of course I remember Hyunwoo, Kihyun. How could I forget?”

    Kihyun nods to acknowledge Minhyuk’s statement, and Minhyuk almost walks up to wrap Kihyun up in his arms, because he looks like his knees are about to buckle under him.

     “Then you’ll also remember how messed up we were — the big mess _I_ made of us,” Kihyun reminds after a short pause, sniffling and hiccuping to try and swallow down the large lump forming in his throat. “We fought so much, and I was so shitty to him. He was always there for me, even though I was the biggest asshole — he was there after every little fight. And then I decided that we’re over, because one day everything went to shit, and I hurt him, Minhyuk.”

    When Minhyuk doesn’t respond, Kihyun clamps a hand around his mouth, sobbing into his palm softly, before pegging on. “I just made things worse instead. I fucked up, and I didn’t know what to do about, so I didn’t do anything; I didn’t even _try_. All I did was run away.”

    Kihyun takes a deep, composing breath, and says, “all I _can_ do is run away.”

    At that, Minhyuk finally steps closer to Kihyun, wrapping himself around his best friend, and Kihyun buries his face in Minhyuk’s shoulder, clutching desperately at his arms to burrow deeper and deeper into the warmth of his embrace.

    “Kihyun,” Minhyuk calls softly, his voice a quiet, hushed whispers. it’s a pleasant change from the way he was screaming and yelling before, but Kihyun knows Minhyuk can’t ever be _really_ mad at him, especially not when he’s curled up, sobbing in his arms. “You were _sixteen_ ; It’s been over five years,” the older boy reassures, absently petting Kihyun’s soft, soft hair with one hand, while the other remains wrapped around the brunette’s torso.

    “I’m so scared, Min. It's terrifying. I don’t want to hurt like that again,” Kihyun mumbles into the fluffy material of Minhyuk’s jumper, fingers gripping tightly at the fabric when he feels a new batch of tears threatening to roll down his pink dusted cheeks. “I don’t want to hurt anyone else like that again, especially not Hoseok,” he emphasises, and Minhyuk thinks he’s about to burst into tears, too, because Kihyun never really cries, and actually seeing him cry has made Minhyuk feel weak and frail.

    Fingers carding through velveteen tufts of Kihyun’s hair, Minhyuk whispers, “you’re hurting him anyway, Ki, and you’re hurting yourself, too.” He takes a moment to lean his head onto Kihyun’s, hugging his arms tighter around the younger boy. “You won’t ruin it again, I know, because you know better now, and this is different from all the other times. _Hoseok is different_.”

    “Which is exactly why I can’t—”

    “No,” Minhyuk interjects, retracting his hand from Kihyun’s hair to palm over his back in soothing, recurring circles. “That’s exactly why you have to do this. There’s always a start to something, and, yeah, it’s gonna be messy, and it’ll be pretty shitty for a while, but it gets better.” He feels Kihyun dig his face deeper into his shoulder, and Minhyuk’s sure he heard a sniffle or two. “It’s okay to be broken as long as you let someone fix you, Kihyun.”

    There’s a short beat of silence before Kihyun starts trembling again, shaking and quivering in Minhyuk’s warm hold. Minhyuk takes a few sweet moments to rub Kihyun’s lower back, and he even presses a lazy kiss to his temple, before taking a long, shaky breath and saying, “Kihyunnie, everyone deserves a chance. _Hoseok_ deserves a chance — that boy is so gone for you that's it's stupid, and I feel like you'd do well with him.”

    Hot tears splash onto the base of Minhyuk’s neck, and this time, he actually feels a single teardrop tumble down the side of his own face. “Stop punishing yourself for what happened years ago and talk to Hoseok, please.”

    It’s subtle, non-existent even, but Minhyuk does, after prolonged moments of hoping and praying, feel Kihyun nod his head in agreement. the tiny motion causing pieces of his fluffy hair to brush Minhyuk’s jaw, and a wave of solace washes over the older boy. He lets out a sigh, loud and full of relief.

    “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he mumbles into Kihyun’s hair again and again, not being able to get enough of the phrase. “It'll be okay, I promise. You'll be okay,” Minhyuk reassures, and that's really all Kihyun needs.

 

* * *

 

     **14TH APRIL**

**E** VER since his little tiff with Minhyuk (which ended on more of a positive, softer note than something that would have Kihyun tossing and turning the whole night), Kihyun's been trying to push the whole confrontation, heart-to-heart mush as far back as possible.

    He'd gotten the perfect opportunity to sit down and talk everything out with Hoseok a day or two ago when Hoseok had sent Kihyun a few texts about meeting up. It had all been really sweet (Hoseok started off with a _'hey, Ki’_ , and moved with a _'I know we didn't really leave everything on the best of notes the last time we spoke, but it's almost been a week and I’d kind of really like to see you??_ ’), and Kihyun had felt horrible for stringing together a pathetic excuse to just avoid it all completely.

    But as far as locking himself up and away from the idea of _talking to Hoseok_ had been concerned, the entire get-up crumbled into fine dust when Jun showed up at Kihyun's door, dragged him and Minhyuk over to his house, saying something like, ‘ _Changkyun is literally fucking seething right now. He sent me over to come get you guys, so be ready for a heck-ton of bashing_ ’.

“I _cannot_ believe you forgot.” Changkyun waves a potato chip at both, Kihyun and Minhyuk, before shoving it into his mouth. he trains his complete attention on Kihyun, popping another chip in his mouth. Hyung, I literally reminded you when you came over to pick up that stupid muffin you like so much.” 

    Maybe Kihyun isn't the best at keeping tabs on things, like impromptu birthday parties that Changkyun claims have been in the making for almost two weeks. but in his defence, he's been subject to a lot of emotional trauma to be able to show up for stately events (as Changkyun likes to call them) in time.

    Kihyun heaves a sigh. the music is too loud (he fails to understand why Jooheon likes to blow up any speakers he comes in contact with), Changkyun is too loud and Kihyun's head is pounding. He needs a drink, if only to drown the recurring thoughts of _Hoseok, Hoseok, Hoseok_ , and how Minhyuk would probably actually pull his sweater apart thread by thread if Kihyun didn’t _try_ _to piece this mess back together_.

  _“_ I’ve _been a little_ preoccupied, kyun. I swear, I marked this on my phone, though, _and_ I even set a reminder,” Kihyun articulates, and he has to yell a little to speak over the music, but it's fine. Kihyun notices Minhyuk staring at him intently, all the while nibbling at his lip — something he always does when he’s got heavy expectations of someone — and it's enough to have him make a beeline for the liquor cabinet. He’s so thankful Changkyun decided to grill them in the kitchen.

    Crouching down in front of the cabinet, Kihyun takes his sweet time rifling through its contents, carefully contemplating each and every drink he comes across — a couple bottles of Jack Daniel's, jagermeister, tequila, rum, fireball — he reassures, “but we’re here now, and I’ll be sure to wish Jiho happy birthday when I see him.”

    Kihyun doesn't need to see Minhyuk's face to know he's probably rolling his eyes. “Is Hyungwon here?” the blonde asks, and Kihyun can feel his heart rate skyrocketing as he continues to dig around in the cabinet.

    Changkyun nods knowingly, and gulps down a nice, long swig of his beer, pointing to the clusters of people spilling out into the living room. “Is _Hoseok_ here?” Minhyuk presses, and Kihyun actually flinches a little and ends up smacking his head against the top of the cabinet.

    It takes Changkyun a while to piece it all together, from Minhyuk constantly glancing at Kihyun, precarious and unsure, to the way Kihyun’s reacting to pretty much anything Minhyuk says, but a soft form of recognition paints over his face finally. When he turns to Kihyun with a long, exaggerated, “ _oh_ ,” Kihyun decides _anything_ is fine, just as long as it's alcohol, and he ends up fishing out the bottle of rum he’d come across.

    “Yeah, Hoseok-hyung’s here. I saw him outside with Yongguk, Junhong and the others,” Changkyun says warily, as if he's tentatively treading over broken glass, just as Kihyun uncaps the bottle with fumbly fingers, tips his head back and takes a nice, long swig. “What happened _now_? I thought you talked to him, hyung, and that was, like, what — a week ago?”

    Minhyuk hums. “It’s a process, Kyun,” he chirps, reaching to take Changkyun’s beer into his own hands. He presses the mouth of the bottle to his lips, and Kihyun resists the urge to bound over and smack the back of the bottle just to shove it down Minhyuk’s throat.

    Changkyun gives his head a quick shake, before turning to Kihyun, who has resorted to filling a beer cup halfway with rum with shaky hands. He ends up spilling some liquid over the countertop, but when Kihyun moves to soak it up with a washcloth, Changkyun stops him promptly with a hand to his wrist.

    “I thought things were better now,” the younger boy ponders, looking at Kihyun so softly, so carefully, that something inside Kihyun starts to ache with the bittersweet memory of Hoseok — sweet, gentle Hoseok, who’s always able to shine through all the dark parts of Kihyun’s heart with a simple smile.

    Kihyun throws in a splash of coke over the rum in his cup, and in the spirit of drinking, he even makes a failed attempt of emptying out an entire ice-tray into the cup. “Yeah, that blew. completely,” he says through a small, sad smile. “Whoever said talking makes things better has obviously never had to actually _talk_ , but for some reason, I’m still being pushed to do so.”

     Minhyuk waves his — technically, Changkyun's — beer around in the air for added affect more than necessity, before Changkyun steals it back from him. The blonde swallows, pushing pieces of icy, blonde hair out of his eyes and sighs. “That's only because you need to work on fixing this."

    “Well, right now, I’m working on _this_ ,” Kihyun reminds, as he holds his beer cup up to Minhyuk. The beverage lurches up to spill from the side a little, and Minhyuk just rolls his eyes again. All the playful eye rolling has somehow integrated itself into their daily routine since the day Kihyun spent all night sobbing into Minhyuk's shoulder.

    “I’ll get to the other part when i’m drunk enough,” Kihyun adds, and then he's padding away into the heavily-packed living room, drink in hand, as he flashes Minhyuk and Changkyun a tiny, forced smile.

    As of now, the last thing on his list is running into Hoseok, because Kihyun knows he's _too sober_ for something that requires him to be _that_ emotionally available. Right now, Kihyun's priority is to probably just stumble across Junhui to just keep himself occupied. Kihyun would even let Hyejin slather his face with all the makeup tucked into her purse if it meant he could lock away every single thought of Hoseok into a far-off corner of his mind.

    When Kihyun _does_ (regrettably) spot Hoseok, his heart lurches in his chest a little, and Kihyun’s almost completely sure he's spilled his drink over Jooheon’s favourite couch. It's all so surreal (or maybe even _too_ real), because Hoseok's right there, leaning against a huge, glass sliding door that leads out into the garden, beer in hand and equipped with that big, beaming smile of his that seems to radiate more light than the sun. He's even wearing that leather jacket Kihyun loves so much, but that's not important, except when Kihyun has to grip onto fistfuls of it when Hoseok kisses him — _then_ it's very important.

    And when they make eye contact, Kihyun reaches out for the couch, his fingers scrambling over the armrest for purchase, because he really thinks his knees are about to buckle under him.

    It lasts for a fleeting, heartbeat of a second. Hoseok's smile doesn't reach his eyes — they just look like sad, dark, empty orbs of nothing — and Kihyun's heart twists, because _he_ did that. _He's_ the one who hurt Hoseok, and that's something Kihyun hates more than anything.

    That thought alone, and just the sight of Hoseok's eyes, looking at him so incredulously, as if Kihyun is some intangible dream, is enough to have Kihyun turning away and weaving his way through the crowd.

    A couple of drinks and a handful of flirty banter later, Kihyun's efforts to get completely wasted pay off just perfectly. Minhyuk would _not_ be proud (except Minhyuk's never proud, and Kihyun has made his peace with that).

    He doesn't remember _how_ he got to dancing with the boy in front of him — doesn't remember _how_ they got to standing so close that they're practically pressed flush up against each other — but all that's spiralling through Kihyun's head is that this boy has the hottest neck tattoo and his lip piercing would probably feel _so_ good between Kihyun's teeth, and that his hands are so warm and big on Kihyun's hips, and that Hoseok’s eyes looked so sad when they had met Kihyun's.

    When Kihyun draws away to go grab himself another drink (his seventh one to be precise), he only manages to messily stumble across to the kitchen. Though, he barely makes it inside, because Hoseok is right there, with his gorgeous blonde hair and pretty face, and it's enough to have Kihyun tripping over himself.

      Thankfully enough, Hoseok manages to catch Kihyun's wrist before he tumbles to the ground, and then Kihyun's being pulled away and pressed against the nearest wall. He's so disorientated that everything's morphing into circles and geometric shapes, but Hoseok is so big and clear in his vision that it's scary. It's as if he's the centre of everything else — everything else that's just a big, fuzzy, loud mess right now.

    “Ki,” he says, his voice a low, buttery-smooth whisper — it's the sweetest sound, really. Kihyun can feel his skin pebbling with goosebumps at how perfectly the nickname rolls off Hoseok's tongue, and it's even more nerve-tingling when he feels Hoseok’s fingers grazing the small strip of skin above the waistband of his jeans. “How much did you drink? You haven't been _this_ drunk since that party you dragged me to three weeks ago.”

    “I’m not drunk.” Kihyun hiccups, and immediately presses his fingers to his mouth, his eyes wide and glittering with the light of a thousand stars. “I s-swear.”

    Hoseok only sighs, a slow exhale of air, but he keeps his eyes trained on Kihyun. There's no harshness to his stare — it's just soft, gentle and admirable, all the same things that make Kihyun feel so small and vulnerable under Hoseok's gaze. That's another reason why he's so grateful for how Hoseok is practically holding him up, because Kihyun knows his knees might just buckle under him any second.

    But when Hoseok reaches to take Kihyun's pretty, little face in his hands, and softly presses down onto his cheekbones and the  delicate skin under his eyes with the pads of his thumbs, gentle and soothing, Kihyun really feels his breath catch in his throat.

    “You've got mascara literally _everywhere_ ," Hoseok breathes. He presses his left thumb into his mouth, and brings it back again to rub away all traces of black from under Kihyun's eye.

    Kihyun’s eyes flicker from one part of Hoseok's face to another — darting from his eyes, to his nose and mouth (he finds himself focusing on Hoseok's mouth the most). “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, the words falling out from between his lips before he can even catch himself.

    Hoseok tugs the sleeve of his jacket over his palm to rub at Kihyun's cheek a little more, his other hand still cradling Kihyun's face. Swallowing hard, he asks, “For what?”

    It's a stupid question — Hoseok knows exactly what Kihyun means, it's just that he'd rather not think too much about it. It hurts less that way.

    “For everything,” Kihyun murmurs, his eyes trained on Hoseok's big, brown ones, his fingers fumbling to reach out and grab onto Hoseok's shoulders, his face, arms — just _Hoseok_ in general. “For disappointing you. For _hurting_ you. I don't like being the reason you're upset.”

    Through a wry smile, Hoseok chuckles. “That’s a lot of stuff to be sorry for.” He brings his hands back down to his sides, and instead shoves both of them inside the pockets of his jacket.

    There's a small pause, where Kihyun takes it upon himself to settle into Hoseok's gaze, soft and careful as ever, and fiddles around with his fingers (in Hoseok's opinion, it's still the cutest nervous tic)

    “Do you hate me?” Kihyun asks quietly — it's really a miracle that Hoseok can hear him, especially over the pounding bass and people screaming, but it's probably only because they're standing so close together.

    Hoseok shakes his hair out of his eyes, and it messily frames his face with curls of honey-gold. He sighs, keeping his eyes fixed on Kihyun’s. Under the dim glow of purple fairy lights, his eyes are deep-set orbs of brown, shining in the purple dark, and Hoseok thinks he can see flecks of pure gold in them.

    “I don't hate you, Ki,” Hoseoks murmurs, peering down at Kihyun through thick eyelashes that rest so prettily over his cheeks. They cast delicate, spidery shadows over his glossy skin, and Kihyun wonders what it would be like to tug Hoseok closer to kiss the dark lines they form under his eyes. “I couldn't ever hate you. That'swhat I hate.”

    Kihyun hates how sad, dripping with hurt, Hoseok’s voice sounds, and it breaks something inside him, twisting, turning something deep in his heart, and it makes him sick.

    “You _should_ hate me,” Kihyun whispers, and this time, he tears his gaze away from Hoseok's eyes to stare down at his hands. He fiddles around with his fingers, finding purchase in the material of his shirt, as he twists and weaves them into the hem.

    Pulling his hands out of his pockets, Hoseok brings his hand back up to Kihyun's face, hooking a finger under his chin to tilt his face up, so he can look directly at him. After spending a month together, Hoseok's realised it's practically impossible for him to be near Kihyun without touching him — it's a biological _need_ that can't go without being satisfied.

    “I don't hate you,” Hoseok reassures softly, saying each word carefully and slowly just so the statement can imprint itself on Kihyun's brain — just so he believes it enough to fall asleep thinking of it. _“_ I _can't_ hate you.”

    Kihyun takes a few seconds to just stare deep into Hoseok's eyes, searching, contemplating. He'd forgotten just how warm and enveloping they are — how _nice_ it feels to settle into his gaze. Hoseok always made Kihyun feel like some ethereal, precious gem, like something that can't ever be manhandled or misused — something otherworldly, wonderful and so beautiful.

    After what feels like hours of standing pressed between Hoseok and the wall, just taking time to shroud himself in the familiar feeling of being so close to Hoseok, Kihyun swallows hard, jaw clenched and tongue pressed to the roof of his mouth.

    “You're in love with me,” he says finally. It's more like he's reminding himself of the fact rather than articulating it to Hoseok.

    Hoseok traces the sharp lines of Kihyun's jaw with his fingertips, occasionally pressing the pad of his thumb to the corner of Kihyun's mouth.

     He hums, whispering a soft, “Yes,” and he drops his hand down to the pulse in Kihyun's throat, feeling it thrum against his skin. It's soothing, and it reminds Hoseok of all the times he fell asleep listening to Kihyun's soft breathing. “More than anything, and just enough to hate myself for it.”

    A sudden burst of heartache swells in Kihyun's chest, clawing its way up to settle in the back of his throat. he sniffles, and if Hoseok looks closely, he can see a single tear rolling down the side of Kihyun's face. “I’m not worth it.”

    Swiping his tongue over his red bottom lip, Hoseok moves a little closer to press a kiss to Kihyun's cheek. Kihyuns skin is so impossibly soft under Hoseok's lips, and Kihyun's eyes flutter shut at the sweet, gentle touch.

    “You're worth it all,” Hoseok whispers, and Kihyun feels a certain warmth blooming through him when he sees Hoseok's mouth curling into that lovely smile he adores so much. It’s then that it occurs to him how much he'd missed that million dollar smile. “Because you're perfect — everything I want.”

    “ _My God, Hoseok_ ,” Kihyun huffs out. He throws his head back against the wall, baring his neck completely, and Hoseok resists the urge to pull Kihyun closer just so he can press kisses along the side of his neck and tug at his lace choker with his teeth, just because he can. “What are you doing to me?” 

    Hoseok's smile just grows bigger — big enough to flash Kihyun two rows of picture-perfect teeth. All it does is remind Kihyun of how things were before — when things were _good_ , when he could talk to Hoseok without feeling the need to have eight cups of hard liquor spiralling in his veins — and Kihyun's heart twists into thick, tangled knots at the thought.

    He takes a few seconds to stare up at the ceiling, trying to ignore the way Hoseok's eyes are boring two big holes into him, but when his head starts pounding, spinning in round, haphazard circles, Kihyun can’t help but bite back a wince and grip onto Hoseok's biceps, just so he can drop his head onto his shoulder.

    It's probably not the _best_ move, but Kihyun really feels like his knees would have buckled and given out under him if he _hadn't_ grabbed onto Hoseok, and Hoseok takes a couple seconds to curl an arm around Kihyun's hips, hooking a finger or two in one of the belt-loops of his jeans.

    “You're completely wrecked,” Hoseok mumbles into the tangled mess of brown hair atop Kihyun's head. he tries desperately not to press his nose into Kihyun's hair and take a nice, long whiff. Kihyun always smells so woodsy, sweet and citrusy at the same time, like a mix of coconut, cinnamon and lemon, and it always makes Hoseok's belly swoop with the feeling of _home_ and what it feels like to be so deeply in love.

    After a short pause (one that he had to take, because the feeling of holding Kihyun again is so overwhelming that Hoseok thinks his heart has been sent into a frenzy), Hoseok sighs. “I think I should take you home.”

    Kihyun makes a small, soft breathy noise, something that resembles a whimper, and Hoseok can feel himself melting a little.

    “Don't have my keys,” Kihyun mumbles into Hoseok's neck, snuggling into his sweet warmth, and Hoseok tries not to keen too much at how Kihyun's lips are pressed so hotly against his skin. “And Minhyuk's probably too busy sticking his tongue down Hyungwon's throat to care or notice right now.”

    “I’ll just call him,” Hoseok decides, wrapping one arm around Kihyun's waist instead to keep him up on his feet, and fumbling around in his pants pocket for his phone. “Try not to fall,” he instructs quickly before pressing his phone up to his ear.

   Kihyun nods lethargically and mumbles something soft and incoherent into Hoseok's skin. It’s a little difficult to hear him over the music, so Hoseok turns his head towards Kihyun, so his own mouth is pressed against Kihyun's ear, but it's when he hears Kihyun saying someone's name — someone who is _not_ him; _Hyunwoo_ — over and over that he feels his heart stutter painfully in his chest.

    Swallowing hard, because Hoseok can feel a big lump forming at the back of his throat, Hoseok repeats the name in question without falling to pieces at the thought of Kihyun _being_ with someone else, or worse, Kihyun _thinking_ of someone else when he's with Hoseok.

    All he feels is Kihyun managing to give him another meek nod and a small hum, and that's all it takes for the younger boy to fall completely limp against Hoseok’s chest, still wrapped up in his soft, comforting embrace.

 

* * *

  

     **H** OSEOK nibbles precariously at his fingernails, phone pressed up against his ear. His eyes keep flickering back and forth from Kihyun, who’s passed out on Hoseok's bed, sprawled messily over crumpled sheets, and the silver watch wrapped around his own wrist.

    “Minhyuk, I know you told me to bring Ki to my place, so you could pick him up later,” Hoseok says carefully. He's sure he caught Minhyuk while he was probably _actually_ sticking his tongue down Hyungwon’s throat, because he'd answered the phone with a really disgruntled groan. “But he kind of just threw up and passed out.”

    “What?” Minhyuk sounds a tad bit more squeakier over the phone, and the frazzlememt only adds to how loud he is. “Where are you guys?”

    “My place.”

    Kihyun stirs a little, his eyebrows furrowed and lips pulled into a pout, and Hoseok bites down on his lip.

    “He's okay, he's _asleep_ ,” Hoseok emphasises, his voice is now a gentle whisper. He’d rather speak hushed and low for Kihyun to not wake up than loud enough for Minhyuk to hear.

    “Right, yeah, okay,” Minhyuk trails off a little and the rest of whatever he says is just a buzz of incoherent words. Hoseok assumes he's probably relaying all this information to Hyungwon, because, well, he can. “If he's already out cold, could you let him sleep at yours today? I'll come get him in the morning, I promise. I just don't want to lug him around when he's knocked out.”

    Hoseok can feel his throat drying up, and, God, does he need water. There are around a dozen different thoughts whizzing around his head. Every single one of them revolves solely around Kihyun, and how he'd let Hoseok manhandle him a little before collapsing onto him completely. Hoseok still feels all fluttery at how easily Kihyun had fallen into his arms, even after everything. but amongst the strawberry-sweetness of it all, Hoseok's heart still turns over in his chest whenever he thinks of the name _'Hyunwoo’_.

    Clearing his throat, Hoseok fidgets with the teardrop pendant hanging around his neck. It's a nervous habit more than anything, and Kihyun had always warned him he'd end up tugging his necklaces in half one day.

    “Yeah, sure, he can stay here,” he manages to squeak, his eyes trained fully on Kihyun, who's lying curled up on his bed — on _Hoseok's_ bed — his hands balled up into small fists next to his head. If Hoseok wanted to, he could count the spaces between Kihyun's soft, tiny breaths, and perch himself on the bed next to him to tangle his fingers in Kihyun's hair, but unlike every other time Kihyun had slept over, Hoseok feels shifty and fidgety about having Kihyun _here_ on _his bed_ , wrapped up in _his shirt_.

    “Thanks for this, Hoseok, and I'm sorry I put you through this,” Minhyuk says, and Hoseok can't see him, but he's sure he can hear a smile in his voice.

    As soon as Minhyuk hangs up, Hoseok can feel his heart beating, like a hurricane, in his ears.

 

* * *

 

     **15TH APRIL**

     **H** OSEOK wakes up to the sound of water running, someone sniffling and sunlight filling the apartment up, like gold. Other than the sharp sting that crawls up his spine as soon as he sits up ( _maybe_ sleeping out on the couch wasn't the best idea), the first thing he notices is Kihyun's willowy figure hunched over the kitchen sink.

    When Hoseok finally wills himself out of the warm embrace of his blanket, he makes a beeline for the fridge. He rummages through it lazily, and albeit a little ineptly, for a box of juice (orange is his pick over apple, cranberry and a bottle of pink lemonade). Silence agrees with both, him and Kihyun, who's still leaning over the sink, looking fazed, as Hoseok pours some juice into a cup for him. He doesn't know if it was by instinct that he picked up the same cup Kihyun _always_ used whenever he came over, but Hoseok decides to push the thought away for now. 

     After Hoseok hands Kihyun the cup, and Kihyun has taken a few, tentative sips of his juice, still only half facing Hoseok, the latter decides to pick at the bilious, heart-wrenching feeling that had been building up inside him since last night — since right after Kihyun had whispered someone else's name into Hoseok's skin, like it was nothing.

    There's no definite reason as to _why_ Hoseok's skin crawls at the thought of Kihyun thinking of someone else (there's nothing that seems rational enough, at least), and Hoseok knows he probably has no right to feel this way. Kihyun can't be tied down, just like that, and Hoseok knows that well enough for it to be engraved onto his heart. More than anything, Hoseok thinks it's the fact that Kihyun, even while knowing how terribly smitten Hoseok is with him, had the audacity to bring up someone else in front of him.

    Hoseok knows he's being unfair, unreasonable, but he feels raw and ripped apart, and all he wants is for Kihyun to see that, even if it means Hoseok has to pound his fists against the walls upon walls Kihyun has built between himself and Hoseok.

    “So,” he begins, standing next to Kihyun and leaning back onto the countertop with his hands planted on either side of him. From here, Hoseok can see how Kihyun's eyelashes catch the muted gold of the sunlight so prettily, and he can map out every single curve of Kihyun's pink, bow lips — he's taken his time tracing every single line with his own mouth. “Who's Hyunwoo?”

    Kihyun visibly stiffens where he's standing bent over the sink, as if his breath caught in his chest, and Hoseok feels the odd urge to press further with questions until Kihyun pounces at him — to poke at him until he explodes. “Where did you hear that name?”

    Hoseok shuffles his bare feet around under him, trying not to stare too much at Kihyun, and how small and vulnerable he looks curled up into himself. It's only now that Hoseok realises Kihyun's wearing one of _his_ shirts (the really oversized, threadbare one that Kihyun always hijacked whenever he fell asleep after fooling around with Hoseok) — Hoseok had struggled to throw it over Kihyun's shoulders last night before he passed out for the second time.

    “Last night,” Hoseok answers, precariously chewing at his bottom lip. He can feel tears prickling his eyes, and he feels a hole beginning to rip through his stomach, but Hoseok suspects it's brought on more by anger than hurt, or a horrible mix of the two. “You kept repeating it over and over again until you finally passed out.”

    Kihyun drops his face into his hands, groaning into his palms. “Fuck, okay.” His voice sounds all muffled, like that, but Hoseok swears he heard it crack somewhere in the middle, and that thought alone makes Hoseok's stomach twist.

    It still doesn't drown out all the different emotions screaming at him from the inside — some sick forms of betrayal, anxiety, heartbreak.

    “Was he, like, your highschool sweetheart? Unrequited love kind of shit? Or is he someone else you've been fucking?” Hoseok presses further, eyeing Kihyun's slender frame with a look that has proved to be very successful in making Kihyun’s resolve crumple into nothing, like a piece of paper. 

    Hoseok realises he's probably overstepping the line, especially when he _knows_ how rigid Kihyun went all over at the mere mention of this boy's name, but he can't find it in himself to care right now, even when Kihyun turns to him, his face twisted into a look of hurt and disbelief, and says, “You do realise you’re being a huge asshole right now, right?”

    For a brief moment, Hoseok even considers letting his own resolve crumble — considers bounding over to Kihyun and wrapping him up in his arms, just so he can press a kiss to the shell of his ear and whisper soft words of apology into Kihyun's hair, because this is _Kihyun_ — but the feeling dissipates as soon as it materialises.

    “You don't talk to me, Ki,” Hoseok says, as if it's all just that easy and simple. G _od_ , does Kihyun want it to be that simple. With a deep breath, and a quick glance out the window, Hoseok continues, “I haven’t seen you in forever after _that_ day, and we’ve just changed _so much_. Then you’re drunk and all over me, saying some other guy’s name, so can you really blame me for how I feel right now?”

    It all sounds so much worse coming directly from Hoseok's lips, and it's not like Kihyun never knew any of this anyway — hearing  Hoseok say it all just makes everything so much more real. Kihyun absently traces over the rim of his cup with his fingertip. “Hoseok—”

    “Are you seeing someone else?” Hoseok interjects almost immediately, snapping his head up to look directly into Kihyun's pretty, brown eyes, and as much as he hates it, he can still feel himself drowning in them — drowning in _Kihyun_ , like that's what he's made for. 

    "Not that it would be surprising," Hoseok's adds as an afterthought. To push another button. To bury Kihyun. To reassure himself. Hoseok doesn't know. 

    There's a new emotion painted onto Kihyun's face now — it’s not only hurt, guilt and remorse now — and Kihyun feels affronted by Hoseok's accusation.

    “Why,” Kihyun begins, narrowing his eyes to probe deeper into Hoseok's inquiry. “Is that the first thing that comes to your mind? I mean, it's not like we’re exclusive, or anything, but still. Is that what you think when you think of me?”

    Hoseok scoffs, and it's soon followed after by dry laughter. ”Because that's what you're like, Kihyun,” he explains with so much ease that it physically hurts Kihyun to listen. Other than the words themselves, Kihyun feels speared by the thought that this is what Hoseok thinks of him, and that's something that gnaws away at his insides bit by bit until he feels empty and hollow. “What do you want me to expect?”

    It's hard for Kihyun to find his voice. He feels like he's being pushed down into the ground with such vigour that he has to hold onto the sink with one hand, his knuckles whitening from gripping so hard. “Excuse me?” he finally manages to squeak, shrugging off the way his eyes are beginning to brim with tears and his throat is tying itself up into a thick, massive knot.

    At this point, Kihyun's like a piece of that china his mother had bought for him, balanced precariously on the sink, and all Hoseok wants is to tip it over the edge, because all he can feel is his own world shattering down on him, like glass.

    “I mean, you can't really keep yourself in any relationship — or whatever the hell you wanna call it — without sleeping with other people, too,” Hoseok reasons, completely missing the way Kihyun's tiny nose is beginning to crinkle, and how he’s desperately biting down on his bottom lip to keep himself from screaming, yelling and crying. “You can't stay in one place for too long, and you can't be with someone after things start getting real, so all I’m saying is I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve been fucking other people. That's all you do.”

    Every word that leaves Hoseok's lips bounces off the walls, like bullets that bury themselves in Kihyun's chest one by one, and whatever pieces were left of Kihyun crumble and shatter away into fine dust. That's all it takes for Kihyun to fumble around the sink for his cup, before throwing the remains of its contents at Hoseok, leaving him partially drenched in half a cup’s worth of juice.

    And that's when Hoseok really sees Kihyun — _truly_ sees him for the first time this whole day, and he can just about feel his own heart breaking at how Kihyun's desperately trying to muffle his sobs by crying into his hand. Just looking at Kihyun's red, teary eyes, his quivering shoulders, soft, hushed cries and the mere fact that _Hoseok did this to him_ , is enough to have tears spilling from Hoseok's eyes, too.

    With Kihyun — the brightest, most wonderful phenomenon in Hoseok's life — just falling to pieces in front of him, holding onto the kitchen sink for dear life and sobbing into his palm, like he's here to cry himself dry, all Hoseok wants to do is take everything back — every last word, because Kihyun deserves better.

    “Kihyun,” Hoseok breathes out slowly, carefully with so much love, like his name is meant to be uttered only by Hoseok's lips. He takes a tentative, wary step closer to the sobbing mess of brown hair and pretty eyes in front of him, only to be met by Kihyun’s palm landing right across his face.

    The impact has Hoseok staring wide, moony-eyed at Kihyun, and it still burns where Kihyun’s hand had made contact with his cheek, but all Hoseok can think about is how quick Kihyun was to suck in a sharp gasp and stumble back a few steps, both hands clasped over his mouth now.

    A fresh batch of tears rolls down Kihyun’s cheeks, and he sniffles before sobbing out a quick, muffled, “ _Fuck_. God, I’m so sorry,” and it just makes Hoseok's heart ache and burn even more.

    Hoseok shakes his head, frantic and hasty, as if he's scared Kihyun will crumble a little more if he doesn't move to piece him up together. He knows he's a mess himself right now, all tears, tangled hair and flushed cheeks, but all Hoseok can think of right now is _Kihyun._

    “It’s okay,” Hoseok reassures, and slowly, carefully moves to reach out for Kihyun to touch him, _hold him_ — to let him come closer — but Kihyun only twists away, stumbling closer to the door, taking a piece of Hoseok's heart with him as he moves away.

    As soon as Kihyun begins to reach for the doorknob, gripping onto it tightly with shaky, fumbly fingers, Hoseok feels his heart sink so slow that he can feel it throbbing in his belly, and _it hurts_.

    It aches, and Hoseok can feel the air being pushed out of his lungs slowly.

    After a few sniffles, Kihyun’s voice is a small whisper when he says, “I think I’m gonna leave,” and all Hoseok can do is watch helplessly as he disappears into the hallway, before folding himself next to the fridge and sobbing into the sleeves of his shirt until he feels numb.

 

* * *

 

**16TH APRIL**

     **J** UNHUI studies Kihyun, who's sitting perched up on the kitchen countertop, with quiet eyes. The older of the two is fully immersed in the contents of his phone screen, with a strawberry held between his teeth, and it's leaving dark red stains on his lips. Junhui only assumes he's reading something for that gender studies class he's so enamoured with.

     Junhui narrows his eyes at the brunette, as if Kihyun's some type of mathematical enigma that he's struggling to solve.

    “You love him,” Junhui breathes finally, his voice a soft, quiet whisper, but Kihyun hears it nonetheless, because his eyes immediately stop skimming the contents of the reading material he's preoccupied with.

    There's no name mentioned, and Kihyun and Junhui both _know_ they don't need to say names, even if it's only the second time they've spoken of this since Kihyun showed up at Junhui’s doorstep a day ago, his hair mussed to perfection and cheeks patched with dry tears. Junhui had almost instantly tugged on Kihyun's hands to pull him all the way up to his room, where he'd tossed him a change of clothes, brushed all the tangles and knots out of his hair and rubbed remnants of the day-old makeup off Kihyun's face.  

    That’s how they are — nothing asked until the person in question actually _talks_ about it — but it works, and Kihyun would prefer it over Minhyuk's incessant nagging and scolding anyday (he absolutely adores Minhyuk to bits, but Kihyun can never keep up with how the said boy maintains his relationships).

    Kihyun swallows hard — hard enough to have his adam's apple bobbing up and down in his throat. He plucks the strawberry out of his mouth, skillfully avoiding Junhui's eyes, and answers, “I don't _love_ him.”

    “You're _falling_ in love with him,” Junhui corrects promptly, and Kihyun wonders just how much thought and time Junhui has put into this — _this_ , being the thought of him and Hoseok, and just how much Jun cared to actually think about it all.

    Kihyun says nothing, and instead busies himself with his phone, fiddling around with it nervously, anxious and afraid to show too much colour, or _any_ colour at all. None of that has ever worked on Junhui, though, or Minhyuk for that matter — they both know Kihyun well enough to see past all the nervous habits and skillful methods of avoiding actual problems.

    It's crossed his mind before — the idea of hovering on the cusp of _falling in love_ with Hoseok — but Kihyun never lets himself think about it too much. In retrospect, he assumes, it probably answers to a lot of things, like why Kihyun feels so much warmer and nicer whenever he's around Hoseok, whether they're just having lunch, grabbing some coffee, dropping by each other’s workplaces or just simply gracing one another with their presences. It even explains why Kihyun feels his bones quiver and his heart ache at the the thought of Hoseok hurting because of him — because of something he did.

    “You have to go see him,” Junhui states without preamble, as if he's picked up and deciphered every single emotion flashing through Kihyun's pretty brown eyes.

    Kihyun puts his phone away, placing it right next to his thighs on the dulled-down marble surface of the countertop. instead of fidgeting around with it, Kihyun resorts to nervously clasping his hands together in his lap. He wonders if Hoseok would have padded over and gently untangled his hands from one another if he were here — Hoseok was always prompt when it came down to soothing Kihyun's nerves.  

    “I can't go see him, Jun. The last time I saw him, disaster ensued,” Kihyun says softly, shaking his head. It almost sounds like it broke his heart to say it, and it probably did, Junhui figures, and after taking a deep, possibly therapeutic breath, Kihyun finishes with a shaky, _“He hates me_.”

    Junhui doesn't take two heartbeats to bound over across the kitchen floor to carefully take Kihyun's tiny face in his hands, just so he can look straight into his eyes.

    “He couldn't ever hate you, Ki,” Junhui reassures with so much certainty — it's laced into his _words_ , his _voice_ , his _eyes_ — that Kihyun almost lets a smile unravel across his pink lips. “Fine, he's upset, sure, but so are _you_ , and to be fair, he didn't have any right to say what he did. That was pretty shitty of him.”

    At that, Kihyun laughs a little — a tiny, breathy chuckle accompanied by that lovely curl of lips — before bringing his hands up to Junhui’s, which are still cupping his soft, soft cheeks, and tugging them down, so Kihyun can hold them tightly within his own (or grip onto them, at least). He knows exactly what Junhui means — it's one of those tag-along perks that come with the whole friendship package (it's even more prominent for a friendship like theirs, where it's mostly all touchy-feely, mushy stuff).

    Kihyun traces the sharp contour-lines of Junhui’s hand with his fingernail, gentle and contemplative, before he finally says, “I can't tell him, though,” and once again, the unspoken words are the ones that scream themselves out at Junhui the most.

     _I can't tell him. I can't tell him I’m falling in love with him, because then it will become be real._

    But Junhui just presses his lips together into a thin line, something he always does whenever he settles for something just because _he has to_ , and Kihyun's heart sinks in his chest.

    “I hope you have a picture of his heart, Kihyun,” Junhui begins, gently squeezing Kihyun's petite hands when Kihyun dips his head down to stare at the floor. “Because you'll have to piece it back together after this.”

    “You're not helping, Jun,” Kihyun answers with yet another chuckle. this time, it's more dry and less heartfelt than before.

    “He _needs_ you,” Junhui pegs on, angling his head to meet Kihyun's eyes, and thumbing at the soft skin between Kihyun's knuckles with small, soothing presses. It's just a gentle nudge, a form of persuasion, asking Kihyun to look back up at him. “And to be fair, you kind of need him, too — you're a mess. I haven't ever seen you like this before.”

    When Kihyun finally looks up, his eyebrows are furrowed and his lips are pursed, head tilted to the side just a little, and all Junhui wants to do is wipe every last bit of confusion off Kihyun's face. “But you've seen me through just about everything.”

    Shking his head, Junhui precariously licks his bottom lip and says,“not this. I’ve never seen you like this, and it's scary, because I don't know what to do.”

    The last few words are like a kick to the shin, and Kihyun feels like someone’s punched a needle through his heart, because Junhui’s just looking at him with so much concern and so much care glossing over his eyes, as if he's scared of potentially breaking Kihyun somehow, and it pains Kihyun's heart. 

    Its the same way Minhyuk has been looking at him since after their little argument, sympathetic and disappointed; it's the same way Jooheon had eyed him that morning after the party, full of concern; and and it's the same way Changkyun has been regarding him for so long, with this look of genuine worry in his eyes, as if he knew everything would eventually crash and burn.

    Giving Junhui’s hands one last press, Kihyun moves to wrap his arms around Junhui's shoulders, tugging him closer until Junhui can easily prop his chin up onto Kihyun's shoulder and rub big, slow circles onto his back, because right now, that's all Kihyun needs.

 

* * *

 

     **20TH APRIL**

_There's not much Kihyun can pinpoint accurately; everything is a big, fuzzy mess of faded colours, monochromes and loud, muffled sounds. If there is one thing he can tell for sure, it's that the air smells distinctly of salt, diluted and subtle, like tears, and that everything feels so cold and heavy._

_“You_ slept _with him?” Hyunwoo inquires, his eyes wide and moony, his palm pressed tightly onto the surface of his desk. His voice is a loud, piercing cry in Kihyun's ears, bouncing off every wall and piece of furniture in the room, but despite everything, Kihyun still feels like he can fall asleep to it._

_Kihyun sniffles from where he's sitting folded up on the bed, fingers twisted into the soft material of Hyunwoo's bedspread. Kihyun had practically begged Hyunwoo to change it to this one — it's all aquamarine blue and patched with watercolour plants. That was almost two weeks ago, before everything just morphed into this downward spiral._

_“We had a fight, Hyunwoo. You yelled, I yelled, you cried, I threw stuff and stormed out,” Kihyun reasons, skillfully avoiding Hyunwoo’s eyes, his face, hands — just him in general. It would shatter Kihyun to pieces if he even caught a glimpse of how Hyunwoo is looking at him — betrayed, angry,_ disappointed.

_Kihyun sniffles yet again when he feels tears pooling up in his eyes. “I thought we were done.”_

_“I never said we were done, Kihyun!” Hyunwoo protests. Instead of loud and smooth, it comes out choked up and muffled. Kihyun can only assume Hyunwoo's crying._

_After a momentary pause, a soft sob, muffled by his palm, Hyunwoo, sounding a little more put together and anchored, continues, “It was a_ fight. _Everyone_ _fights. It doesn't mean you can go sleep with other people as soon as I turn my back.”_

_Kihyun snaps his head up to narrowly stare up at Hyunwoo through blurry, red, puffy eyes, his jaw clenched and fists balled so tight he can feel his fingernails cutting into his palm. From here, if Kihyun pays attention, he can see the red tinting Hyunwoo's eyes, the semi-dried tear stains on his face and dark circles under his eyes from all the sleepless nights._

_“I thought we were done,” Kihyun repeats, hissing it through his teeth more than saying it. “What was there to lose anyway?”_

_“Is that all this is to you? A game?” Hyunwoo breathes, staring deep into Kihyun's eyes. There was once a time when Hyunwoo could just let himself be swallowed up whole by those pools of pure brown. It was back when being in love with Kihyun felt like a warm, summer breeze. “Where you can just up and leave whenever_ you _want, because you can without even giving anyone else as much as a sideways glance?”_

_There's so much Kihyun wants to say. There's so much he wants to just scream out just so it can all hang in the air between them, a solemn reminder of just how much they've both broken apart, but the words get lost somewhere in his mouth just as fast as they came, and now Kihyun can only turn his head to the side and grip the soft cotton sheets tighter between his fingers._

_“I shouldn't have expected anything from you,” Hyunwoo mumbles under his breath, reaching up to fist a hand in his messy hair, tears spilling from his eyes, like water dripping from a tap. “Fuck, I shouldn't have— I should have listened to everyone who said this was a dumb, stupid idea."_

_At that, Kihyun wills himself to look up at Hyunwoo, and his heart shatters into a million, tiny pieces when Hyunwoo stares deep into Kihyun's eyes, cold and apathetic, and says, “You're worthless.”_

With a sharp gasp, Kihyun's eyes fly open and he scrambles up to a sitting position, cushioned by the soft, plush duvet under him. He can feel his heartbeat thrumming in his ears, his blood pumping so hard through his veins that he can hear it.

    White light pours through the shutters, like water, silver and glimmering under the moon, filling up his room with a pearly glow. There’s an assortment of coffee cups scattered over his desk, two bottles of whiskey lying forgotten on the floor and a couple pairs of shoes tossed by his bedroom door, leaving Kihyun to wonder just how long he's been asleep.

    Right when he's about to crawl off his bed, he feels a warm, big hand on his thigh, and he turns to see Minhyuk, in all his white-haired glory, leaning back against the headboard.

    Kihyun is sure his eyes are still swollen and pink, and his face is probably stained with more tear tracks than he can count,  but Minhyuk looks fresh and crisp, as if he's been up for a while now, and he tugs Kihyun back towards him until they're pressed together side by side. “You look pretty shaken up,” he starts, smiling softly at Kihyun and reaching to brush a few wayward strands of his brown hair away. “What were you dreaming about?”

    Kihyun doesn't spare a second, gazing deep into Minhyuk's eyes to showcase trust and faith, before answering, “Hyunwoo. I was dreaming about Hyunwoo.” His voice is a low, husky whisper, and it cracks at almost every syllable.

    “Ki-”

    “I know what you're gonna say,” Kihyun inherjects with a hopeful  look his his eyes, and Minhyuk doesn't have the heart to cut in and protest. Not when his best friend spent the last five days buried in his bed, living off crackers and juice. “It's not like that. I’m not berating myself for it, even though I should, but I'm not. Not right now.”

    Minhyuk sighs, pulling his knees up to his chest and blinking at Kihyun, before asking, “What are you thinking then?”

    Kihyun plants his hands down onto the mattress and maneuvers himself so his back is pressed against the headboard completely. He finds solace in twisting the drawstring of his sweats around his dainty fingers, and he says, “When Hyunwoo found out I, _you know_ —” He adds in a few vague hand gestures, and Minhyuk nods acknowledgingly for him to continue. “He looked disappointed, like he didn't want it to happen, but he knew it would happen. With Hoseok, when he thought I was with someone else, he— I can't even explain it, Min, but there was just this really sad look in his eyes. It kind of looked like I had broken a promise or turned around and stabbed him in the back.”

    “He's in love with you,” Minhyuk responds easily with a tilt of his head. Pieces of his pearly fringe fall messily into his eyes, and Kihyun brings a hand up to his face to brush them away.

    “I know,” Kihyun reaffirms, lips pressed tightly together. They look bruised and cut — Kihyun has this habit of chewing at his lips in his sleep whenever he's upset. “And I also know that I don't want to ever see him like that. I felt something break inside me, and it was horrible. I don't want to feel like that again.”

    Minhyuk shrugs softly, a small smile tugging at his lips, and he reaches to gently touch Kihyun's forearm reassuringly. “Tell him, then. Talk to him - _go_ to him, Kihyun,” he urges, lightly pressing down onto Kihyun's soft skin.

    “It’s not that easy,” Kihyun chuckles, pulling his arm out from under Minhyuk's fingertips. Slowly, he crawls to the edge of his bed and hops off, combing his fingers through his tangled hair, as he hovers by the doorframe. “At least not now after what I did to him.”

    “Nothing's ever easy,” Minhyuk calls after him. “But you still have to try to make it work, especially if the other person's worth it, and Hoseok _i_ _s_ worth it.”

    Kihyun hums, staring absently at his bedroom wall — the baby blue one that's littered  with several Polaroids and pictures. “I don't know, Min. I feel like everything's kind of fallen apart at the seams, and I don't know if I can take anymore.

    Tapping his fingertips meditatively against the door, Kihyun manages to give Minhyuk a weak, sad smile, which breaks a piece of Minhyuk's heart, before slipping out into the living room and padding barefoot into the bathroom.

    As Kihyun closes the door behind him, Minhyuk fumbles around over the crumpled duvet for his phone. He wastes no time in unlocking it, grinning fully at his home-screen wallpaper (it's a picture of him and Kihyun at Jooheon's New Year's Eve party: they're standing close together, Kihyun's chest pressed into Minhyuk's back, his leg wrapped around Minhyuk's hips from behind, and he's pretending to bite down on Minhyuk's shoulder) and pressing on Hoseok's contact in his messages.

**_[10:26 AM] Minhyuk_ **

_you have to come see him please_

 

**_[10:27 AM] Minhyuk_ **

_he wont listen to anything i say_

_he wont even listen to jun but if it's you i know he'll talk_

 

**_[10:28 AM] Minhyuk_ **

_as his best friend i feel a little jealous knowing he has this ridiculous soft spot for you ugh but whatever_

 

During the amount of time Hoseok takes to reply, Minhyuk switches from throwing precautionary glances out Kihyun's bedroom door (Kihyun would murder him if he were to witness this) and his phone screen.

**_[10:33 AM] Hoseok_ **

_is he okay_

 

    Minhyuk takes a quick moment to sweep his eyes over the expanse of Kihyun's bedroom. Liquor bottles piled up in any vacant corner available, dirty laundry overflowing from the hamper, clothes tossed all over the room, shoes thrown everywhere and perfumes, jewellery and makeup cluttering the dresser. Kihyun is always oddly prompt when it comes down to cleaning up and staying organised, but he tends to slack off under a very specific list of circumstances.

    (Hoseok is one of the major phenomena that make up that list, hanging right at the top of everything else.)

 

**_[10:36 AM] Minhyuk_ **

_not really no_

 

**_[10:37 AM] Hoseok_ **

_is he home rn_

 

**_[10:39 AM] Minhyuk_ **

_yea i have class in like 20 mins and ki just woke up but just come anyway_

  

* * *

 

_You have to come see him._

Hoseok took the blame for it all — dawned it all upon himself for letting their previous conversation turn into something so hurtful and _ugly._ He'd pushed all of Kihyun's buttons, like that, on purpose, and he had driven Kihyun over the edge so hard that he might as well just be battered and bruised from it all.

He's always been rather emotionally and easy to sway, but having watched Kihyun's crumble at his fingertips simply crushed Hoseok into a million pieces.  

   After making Kihyun cry — after pushing him so far past his breaking point — the same boy Hoseok had fallen in so deep for, Hoseok didn't have the heart to even as much as send a text message to Kihyun. An awful, heart-wrenching feeling of guilt had been clawing at Hoseok’s insides since that day, and he found himself in tears every now and then. He'd cry in his sleep, in the shower, at work — just anytime the slightest thought of Kihyun floated through his head — and more often than not, Hyungwon usually came home from class to find Hoseok sobbing into his second bottle of whiskey

    Hyungwon had pushed him, urged him countless times to pull up his socks and go see Kihyun, because he couldn't just let this eat him up alive, but Hoseok always shrugged it all off and settled for the comfort of his bed, opting to cry into his pillow until he falls asleep, regardless of what time it is during the the day.

    That's why he doesn't know how he ended up at Kihyun's door exactly twenty minutes after Minhyuk had texted him. Now that he's here, standing just a door away from Kihyun, Hoseok is sure there are dark crescents under his eyes, his skin is probably grey and pale from having cried himself dry and his hair must be a ruffled mop of blonde tangles, but all his anxiousness washes away when Kihyun opens the door.

    More often than not, Hoseok feels like he forgets just how beautiful Kihyun is, because he's standing right in front of Hoseok in a loose, cropped shirt and a pair of boxers, bare-faced and freshly washed, smelling mildly of strawberries and almond. There's a thin, blue dress robe thrown over his shirt, and it makes Kihyun seem so soft and small, like a tiny mouse bundled up in fluffy scarves and towels. The sight is sweet enough to have Hoseok's heart leaping a thousand feet high into the air.

    For a long, silent moment, Kihyun just stands there, looking at Hoseok over and over again, as if he can't believe he's really here, and that makes Hoseok's heart ache, until he swallows hard, clutching at the fabric of his robe.

    “Hoseok,” Kihyun whispers, his voice soft and small, his eyes, glassy and puffy red, staring deeply into Hoseok's weary ones.

    “Minhyuk texted me,” Hoseok explains, fingers picking at the slightly frayed hem of his shirt. “I know I probably should have called ahead or something, but, uh—” Combing shaky fingers through his frizzed up blonde hair, Hoseok coughs pathetically before asking, “Can I come in?”

    Kihyun sniffles, rubbing a little too harshly at his eyes to somehow make them look like he hasn't been sleep deprived and crying on and off for two days straight. His skin burns under the rough touch, and Kihyun's sure there are red marks where he'd scraped his skin from.

    After shuffling his feet around under him a little, he nods slowly and steps aside for Hoseok, promptly locking the door behind them, before padding barefoot into the kitchen. Hoseok doesn't spare two seconds before trailing behind him, standing what he hopes is a safe enough distance away, as Kihyun leans back against the kitchen sink.

    Like this, with muted gold light splashing onto Kihyun's face, glinting off his earnings and weaving itself into his hair, Hoseok can mark out every miniscule detail. The redness of his eyes, the several faint tear tracks dried over his cheeks and bite marks pressed into his lips — it all makes Hoseok's insides twist. While Kihyun is still so beautiful — the brightest, most radiant being Hoseok has ever come across — seeing him worn down and _broken_ is like having a million daggers being pushed through his heart.

    Just the mere thought of Kihyun lying curled up in bed, pressed up against the pillows and buried under piles of blankets, sobbing and crying out till he’s nothing but a shivering mass of bones — just the thought that _he_ caused all that himself makes Hoseok sick to the stomach.

    And if there one thing Hoseok knows better than the fact that  he's fucking in love with Yoo Kihyun is that he doesn't ever want to be someone who'd cause him so much heartache. So with a heavy heart, thumping loudly in his chest — so hard that Hoseok can hear it in his ears — he says, “Kihyun, do you want me to stop?”

    Kihyun only wraps his arms around his own torso, curling in on himself more and more, and looks up at Hoseok, his eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

    “Do you want me — _us_ _—_ to stop _this_?” Hoseok emphasises while a deep breath, feelings tears beginning to pool up in his eyes, as he motions between himself and Kihyun. “Because if that's what you want,” he starts, his voice becoming increasingly heavier as he feels himself inching closer and closer to bursting into tears. “I’ll do it.”

    Ending up in tears every now and then had become a part of Kihyun’s everyday routine since he had walked out of Hoseok's apartment that day. It's reached a point where Kihyun doesn't even feel it anymore, and more often than not, Minhyuk would be scrambling up to him, hugging him tight and whispering sweet words of comfort into his hair before Kihyun even got a chance to react. He's cried himself numb and empty, and he doesn't even realise he's crying right now until Hoseok moves closer and closer till he's right in front of him — so big, so gentle and so, so beautiful.

    “Oh, shit, no.” Hoseok’s eyes are wide, glassy with unshed tears, looking ready to spill any second, and all Kihyun wants to do is pull him closer so he can kiss them away. With soft, careful fingers, Hoseok cradles Kihyun's face in his hands to brush his tears away with the pads of his thumbs. “God, don't cry, please, Ki.”

    Kihyun's skin burns under Hoseok's touch, aching, _screaming_ , because he missed this so much — he missed _Hoseok_ so, so much. "Don't leave. _God_ ,” Kihyun huffs out, choking on a sob. “Just-- Please don't go.”

    Hoseok shakes his head quickly, continuing to stroke the delicate, soft skin under Kihyun's eyes with his thumbs even after he's wiped away every single tear. “No, Ki, I'm not going anywhere,” he murmurs, letting his eyes dart all over Kihyun's face — his eyes, forehead, cheeks, nose, lips — taking him all in and relishing in the sweet feeling of holding Kihyun again. “I just wanted to know if that's something you wanted.”

    Sniffling, Kihyun slowly brings his hands up to rest on top of Hoseok's larger ones, and Hoseok’s heart soars at the sweet gesture. “That's not what I want,” Kihyun answers, blinking residual tears away before looking up at Hoseok and straight into his dark, perfect eyes. “I don't want you to leave.” 

    Taking a deep breath, Hoseok presses down softly onto Kihyun's cheeks with his thumbs, and in one heartwarming motion, moves to press his forehead against Kihyun's. His belly swoops with sugary warmth at the way Kihyun's eyes flutter shut, and how his eyelashes slowly come to rest over the apples of his his cheeks.

    They stay like that for a while — pressed so close together that Hoseok is practically straddling Kihyun against the sink — until Hoseok steps away, peeling his hands off Kihyun's face to hold gently onto Kihyun's delicate wrists. Squeezing softly once, Hoseok lets go.

    “I’m sorry,” Hoseok whispers. Even though they're not standing  as close anymore, Kihyun can still hear him, because every inch of his body and soul is just focused on Hoseok. “I was sad and hurt and angry, and I just—” Hoseok sniffles, rubbing at his teary eyes with a baller fist, and Kihyun's heart aches at the sight. “I was so in love with you that I turned a blind eye to everything else and I hurt you instead.”

    Kihyun simply looks at Hoseok for a while, his head tilted to the side just a little, and his eyes glassy and glittering. He looks like a sad puppy, and if the circumstances were different, Hoseok wouldn't be thinking twice before moving closer to pepper Kihyun's face with kisses.

_“Was_ in love?” Kihyun repeats quietly, a sad look of hope glinting in his eyes.

    “Was— Am— _Still am_ — I still—” Hoseok drops his face into his hands, groaning softly into his palms before looking back at Kihyun. And with a small smile, the sincerest of looks in his eyes, Hoseok breathes, “I’m still in love with you, Ki. No matter how much I try to deny it.”

    That's when Kihyun starts crying all over again, but this time the tears burn as they trickle down his cheeks, and _he feels them_. He can just about see the panic flashing in Hoseok's eyes, so he quickly says, “Hoseok, I’m so, so sorry, I'm sorry, c—” Kihyun chokes on a sob, and reaches out for Hoseok, his palms open and unfurled, his fingers just barely brushing over the fabric of Hoseok's shirt. “Can I?”

    “Yeah. _Yeah_. Come here,” Hoseok answers, his voice just a little above a whisper. His body moves faster than his brain can process, and then he's holding a hand out for Kihyun, pulling him closer when Kihyun finally takes it. Almost instantly, Kihyun wraps his arms around Hoseok's shoulders, pressing himself even closer, and Hoseok keeps his arms curled around Kihyun's tiny waist.

    “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I hurt you,” Kihyun mumbles into the side of Hoseok's neck. Hoseok can feel his warm breath fanning out over his skin, he can feel Kihyun's lips brushing his neck every time he speaks, and he can feel Kihyun's hot tears splattering onto the base of his neck, and it's all making his head spin in slow, small circles. If it Kihyun hadn't been holding onto him so tightly, Hoseok thinks his legs knees might just have buckled under him.

    “I'm sorry for being so stupid. I thought if I created this distance between us I could get over this, but—” Kihyun sniffles, and Hoseok hears him let out a breathy chuckle — an actual _chuckle_ — for the first time in weeks. “God, was I stupid and so, so wrong. I never wanted any of this to happen.”

    Hot tears prick the back of his eyes and a lump begins to materialise at the back of his throat, and Hoseok knows he's about to start crying, but none of that matters. Not when he's finally holding Kihyun again — not when Kihyun's hugging him like his life depends on it.

    “I really missed you.” Hoseok winds his arms tighter around Kihyun's waist. He noses Kihyun's hair, relishing in its freshly-fluffed softness and breathing in the delicate floral scent of his skin. It's soothing enough to have Hoseok's feeling like he's floating on a canopy of clouds. “So, so much.”

    Kihyun doesn't spare a second before nodding subtly, digging his wet, damp face into Hoseok's neck. “I missed you, too. You can't even imagine how much,” he confesses, gently pushing at Hoseok's firm chest so he can peer up at him through glistening eyelashes.

    Hoseok loosens his grip around Kihyun's waist just little, enough for him to accommodate his movements. He doesn't say anything, and only looks at Kihyun with soft, loving eyes, because he can tell Kihyun isn't done yet. Instead, Hoseok busies himself with pressing his the pads of his thumbs into Kihyun's sides, softly squeezing and stroking his silky skin. The gesture is so comforting, so, so sweet that it has Kihyun’s breath hitching in his throat.

    “I just got really scared, because I like you so much,” Kihyun says finally, his eyes darting all over Hoseok's face, because _he just can't get enough_ , and his hands balled up into tiny, adorable, little fists over Hoseok's chest. “I just needed space, I just wanted to _not_ feel so miserable and pathetic for being such a coward. I didn’t deal with it very well. I’m still hurting because of something that happened five years ago. I don’t know how to fix it, and I didn’t want to make the same mistakes with you.”

   The look in Hoseok's eyes is nothing short of pure adoration when he brings a hand up to Kihyun's cheek, cradling his face with so much care that Kihyun feels like he's going to melt. “I really wish you would’ve talked to me, Ki.”

   When Hoseok’s fingers move to trace the soft lines of his cheek, the curves of his jaw and chin, Kihyun finds himself leaning into the gentle touch. He lets his eyes slip closed for a brief moment, looping himself in this lovely feeling of being loved and cared for so sweetly, so ardently. Hoseok's heart flutters at the sight, and he doesn't think he can ever get over how perfect Kihyun looks with his eyes closed, every muscle and fibre of his face relaxed and eyelashes resting prettily over his cheeks. It's times like this, when Kihyun leaves himself open and vulnerable in front of Hoseok, that make Hoseok feel like he's falling in love with Kihyun all over again. 

    When Kihyun finally opens his eyes, he gives Hoseok a sad smile, one that breaks Hoseok's hearts and says, “I didn’t know how to. If you think about it, I hardly know _anything_ , really — about people, feelings, talking, relationships. I can’t handle anything serious.”

    “That’s because you’ve because you’ve never tried,” Hoseok elaborates, dropping his hand down to Kihyun’s shoulder and squeezing gently.

    “I don’t know what happened five years ago that shook you up so bad, but if you let me,” Hoseok says, his voice smooth and deep, like a gentle ocean wave, as he slowly brushes his fingertips up and down Kihyun's arm. “If you _trust_ me, Kihyun, I swear I will stay with you, walk with you step by step to get over it. No matter how long it takes, I’ll be there with you.”

    Kihyun shakes his head slowly. He's so disoriented and blissed out, because Hoseok's fingers feel so, so nice, and because Hoseok's voice is so buttery smooth that Kihyun can feel his skin beginning to pebble with goosebumps. It’s so difficult to even think properly, much less string together a coherent sentence, but Kihyun finally manages to mumble a meek, quiet, “You don't want that. You don’t want me. _Really_.”

    Hoseok almost instantly reaches for Kihyun's tiny hand, enveloping it within his much larger one in a single, fluid motion. “But I do _,”_ he answers, his eyes big and pooling with sincerity. _“God_ , Kihyun, if only you knew how much I want you — how much I want this,” he continues, motioning between them both with their intertwined hands. “And I know you do, too. We’re so good, Ki, we’re _amazing_ together, and I know I fall so easy, but the way I feel when I’m with you— I’ve never felt that way about anyone before.”

    Kihyun takes a moment to let his eyes flicker all over Hoseok's face, and then he smiles — smiles that lovely, heart-warming smile of his that made Hoseok fall head over heels for him in the first place. “Really?”

    “Yeah, really,” Hoseok affirms, feeling a smile tugging at his own lips, too, because Kihyun is smiling and Kihyun's smile is all Hoseok needs to feel like everything's okay.

    With a deep breath, Hoseok presses down softly on Kihyun's hand and leans in closer to place a sweet kiss on his forehead. “I won't hurt you, Ki,” he promises, gazing so deep into Kihyun's eyes that Kihyun wonders if Hoseok can see the fleeting images behind his eyelids and every single thought whizzing through his head at the moment. “I could never hurt you, and God save me if I ever do, because I won't be able to live with myself.”

    Kihyun's smile only grows wider until his eyes begin to crinkle at the ends and his cheeks are dipping inwards to form those adorable, little dimples Hoseok loves to kiss so much. “I know,” he says, using his free hand to brush wayward strands of Hoseok's hair away from his eyes. “I trust you. More than I could ever trust anyone else.”

    “You know, I was gonna wait until later, but,” Hoseok begins, moving closer to nose softly at Kihyun's cheekbone before pressing a quick kiss on it, and Kihyun croons at the gesture. “Can I kiss you?”

    There are no words exchanged between them as Kihyun loops his arms around Hoseok's neck, a big, dopey grin plastered onto his face. He swoops in to gently nuzzle Hoseok's nose with his own, letting his eyes flutter closed as he kisses Hoseok's lips, and Hoseok is quick to cradle the brunette's tiny face in his hands.

    The kiss is sweet and slow, perfect for Hoseok to pour all his love into, and Kihyun's lips are so impossibly soft and plush under his own, tasting rosy-sweet and so lovely. When Kihyun angles his head a little to suck at Hoseok's bottom lip, teasing and languid, biting down on it every so often, Hoseok really feels like he might die from feeling so much ecstasy. Kihyun has always fascinated Hoseok to an extent where Hoseok sometimes forgets how to breathe. Even with his slow, feather-like touches, Hoseok thinks Kihyun is something so beautiful and ethereal, like the arcs of a thousand meteors streaking across the sky, or the ocean glittering under the light of the moon and a billion stars.

    And Hoseok. Hoseok is so perfect and wonderful with his gentle hands and the way he grips Kihyun's face so carefully, with so much love that Kihyun thinks his heart might burst. There hasn't been a single day where Kihyun hasn't felt overwhelmed by just how easily Hoseok can convey emotion, and he shows it now by stroking Kihyun's soft, baby cheeks and humming contently into Kihyun's mouth when Kihyun brushes his fingers over the nape of his neck.

    When they part, a little breathless and dizzy, Kihyun wastes no time in tugging Hoseok into his room by his hands, falling onto the sheets together and pulling out his laptop to watch one of those sappy romance movies Hoseok loves so much. They don't really watch or pay much attention to what's happening as much as they fool around — Hoseok kissing Kihyun's neck and tracing circles onto Kihyun's hip with his finger, until Kihyun clambers onto Hoseok's lap, cupping his face and kissing him roughly

    It's good and it's _nice_ — nostalgic, even — because this is how they were before. Comfortable with each other, relaxed and _happy._

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He said, "I really don't mind if we take our time 
> 
> Cause I've got a couple bottles of your favorite wine
> 
> Cause I've got you, yeah, I've got you now   
> I've got you"
> 
> [Halsey - Garden]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> o my god ao3 decided to delete this chapter & i lost all my comments wtf is happening i'm about to flip a table-

**2TH APRIL**

Loud laughter bubbles from Kihyun's lips as he walks in through the café doors with a grinning Hyungwon in tow. There's a small, blue yoga bag hanging off his shoulder, Hyungwon's Porsche keys clutched in his right hand and a water bottle in the other. He easily spots Minhyuk sitting at one of the tables, folded up neatly on a plush, leather armchair, talking ten words a second with Changkyun.

"Really, Min? Let the poor boy work for God's sake,” Kihyun pipes as he moves to set his bag down onto one of the other three armchairs, placing his water bottle on the table soon after and handing the car keys over to Hyungwon.

Minhyuk sticks his tongue out and smacks Kihyun's arm before looking up at Hyungwon and smiling that sunshine smile of his, his expression immediately switching from friendly annoyance to pure adoration. Almost instantly, Hyungwon leans down to kiss Minhyuk's cheek, his lips pulled into a sweet smile, and Minhyuk hums in content.

Grinning, Changkyun picks at the collar of his black polo shirt, his eyes flickering from Hyungwon, who's sitting perched up on the armrest of Minhyuk's chair, to Minhyuk, who looks lovesick playing around with Hyungwon's slender fingers, and Kihyun.

"Should I just get the usual?” Changkyun asks, receiving prompt nods from all three.

“I’ll come with you,” Kihyun chirps as soon as Changkyun turns on his heel to head back up to the counter. He almost trips over his own feet as he walks up behind Changkyun, not missing the muffled giggles that Hyungwon and Minhyuk let out at the sight. 

Right on cue, just as Kihyun parks himself in front of the countertop, asking Changkyun about his classes and whether Jooheon's doing okay, Hoseok appears from one of the few doors behind the counter.

He's dressed in a blue flannel, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows to show off pale, snowy skin and tight jeans, with a mop of blonde hair sitting messily on his head. There is a pair of thin, wire glasses perched on his cute, little nose, and Kihyun thinks Hoseok is the most gorgeous boy he's ever set his eyes on.

Changkyun only grins, giving both, Kihyun and Hoseok, a knowing look, and busies himself with blending some type of coffee with ice and milk.

“Hi, you,” Kihyun chimes through a big smile, leaning onto the countertop on his elbows when Hoseok walks up to stand right in front of him. The brunette brings a hand up to hook his fingers under Hoseok's chin, softly running a thumb over the soft lines of his jaw in a sweet, heart-melting gesture.

Hoseok eyes immediately brim with mirth and he turns his head to press a quick kiss to Kihyun's wrist, right over his pulse. He looks Kihyun up and down, feeling his heart flutter at how adorable he looks in his cropped _b_ _aby boy_  shirt and the calf-length yoga tights he's wearing. The shirt is short enough to leave Kihyun's belly piercing on display, his pants rest low enough to show the sharp lines of his hips, and Hoseok thinks he might just go crazy, because Kihyun is so captivating in every possible way.

“You look so cute right now I think I might just cry,” Hoseok whines, and when Kihyun giggles, his eyes glittering like pieces of diamond, Hoseok is sure he can see the moon in them, bright and resplendent.

Kihyun leans closer over the countertop to press a clumsy kiss to the corner of Hoseok's mouth, his pink, bow lips still curled into a smile when he draws away. Hoseok feels his legs turning to jelly under him.

“Why are you so cute? Stop being so cute. I can't handle this,” Hoseok demands playfully, and Kihyun runs a hand through Hoseok's hair before dropping it back down onto the countertop. 

“You're too much,” Kihyun says through a big, pretty smile. He's practically glowing, shining with the light of a billion galaxies, and Hoseok can't help but feel a burst of fondness and love for the boy in front of him -- _his_ Kihyun, whom he actually gets to _call_  his now.

Looking back at Hyungwon over Kihyun's shoulder, watching as his roommate laughs fondly into Minhyuk's hair, Hoseok ponders, “At least Hyungwon found _someone_ to drag along to yoga.”

“It was actually pretty nice. We had a good time,” Kihyun confesses, his lips pressed into a thin line and his fingers fiddling absently with the thin, silver chain hanging around his neck. A small, blue pendant hangs from it, glinting under the afternoon sun. Hoseok had bought it for him a few days ago when they were passing by a jewelry store after brunch, and Kihyun always finds himself playing around with it every now and then. “When do you get off your shift?”

Hoseok furrows his eyebrows, glancing down at his wristwatch. “Like, in twenty minutes and then I'm all yours,” he says. “Do you mind waiting?”

Kihyun shakes his head. “Not at all. I'll just be third wheeling over there with those two,” he sighs, gesturing over his shoulder at Minhyuk and Hyungwon, and Hoseok beams at him before kissing his lips and padding away to one of his co-workers.

When Kihyun plops onto one the armchairs next to Minhyuk, a huge, dopey smile on his face and eyes twinkling, Hyungwon has run out to grab something from his car, and Changkyun is setting their drinks on the table -- two iced Americanos for the lovebirds and a ginger iced tea for Kihyun.

Minhyuk picks up his Americano, flashing Changkyun a quick smile as the younger boy retreats back to the counter. The plastic of the cup crackles under the pressure of his fingers when Minhyuk takes the straw between his lips. Sipping slowly at his drink, he watches Kihyun with quiet eyes, taking full notice of how the brunette is practically glowing even while swirling a straw around in his own drink.

“You look good,” Minhyuk finds himself saying. He's met with a confused Kihyun peering up at him through thick eyelashes and a messy fringe of brown curls that's fallen over his forehead.

Reaching to brush Kihyun's soft, velvet hair away from his eyes, Minhyuk smiles like Kihyun means the absolute world to him. “You look happy, Ki,” he emphasises, gently thumbing at Kihyun's cheekbone for a brief moment and dropping his hand back down onto his lap.

Kihyun swipes his tongue over his lips, turning to look over at Hoseok, who's milling behind the countertop, tousling Changkyun’s hair and getting scolded by Kwangji for flirting with customers during his shift. Minhyuk doesn't miss the way Kihyun's eyes light up, like Christmas lights, when Hoseok looks back at Kihyun and scrunches his nose up at him.

Instead, Minhyuk feels so much comfort and contentment in knowing just how enamoured Kihyun, his best friend, whom he loves more than anything and everything else, is with this boy. The fact that Kihyun has agreed to trust himself with someone other than Minhyuk, or even Junhui for that matter, fills Minhyuk's heart with so much felicity and adoration, and he's sure Hoseok feels the same way.

Hoseok mouths something to Kihyun, a few, select words that fill Kihyun's cheeks with a soft red that just makes his smile look even more radiant. So with a deep breath and a pounding heart, Kihyun hums. “I _am_ happy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you stuck with this fic till the end - all 50k words - pls know i love u to bits ♥ ;; v ;; it's been a fun ride & i really had a fun time writing this- i hope u guys enjoyed this as much as i did !

**Author's Note:**

> as always, kudos & comments are appreciated !  
> ♥
> 
> come find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/fuzzykiho)  
> and [cc](https://curiouscat.me/fuzzykiho) !!!!!!


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